The Bold Adventures of Master Wayne - Episode I

Happy Friday internet people! I got this cleaned up pretty quickly so I decided to share it with you before the weekend starts. This is the first of what I hope to be many EXTREMELY short stories touching on the life of DC Comic's Bruce Wayne from the ages of 14 till about 20.

As many of you Batman fans may already know, this is the time period in which young Bruce had left home to begin training himself to become the Batman. The episodes will be a conversation here, a journal entry there, some letters to Alfred and Leslie, and even a few hours of his training. But those will pop up few and far between all of my other works of fiction. Also, thanks to some friends' goading, I will be writing about a few villains. The Joker is an obvious first up.  
So check out the first of many below and be sure to subscribe or check back often for new releases. Enjoy!

Bruce took in the dark alley that surrounded him.  Rain was just beginning to come down in a light drizzle, coating everything with a dream-like sheen.  A thick fog began to roll in as his mother’s high heels clacked loudly against the cobblestone street beneath them, her warm smooth hand securely wrapped around his own.  Vanilla-scented smoke rose from his father’s pipe as he bobbed up and down beside Bruce.  He laughed as he walked, reenacting the play for his wife and son and a younger Bruce Wayne smiled, until he remembered why he was there.

As if brought on by the sudden realization, the air around them grew heavy with dampness and the vanilla-scented smoked turned bitter and rancid.  His mother’s hand was suddenly cold and clammy and Joe Chill stood just a few yards in front of Bruce’s family. Deep shadows cast by a single street lamp overhead lined his craggy face and the Waynes’ little boy began to scream.  He screamed so hard and so long he began to taste the iron in his mouth as his throat went raw and bloody.

But no amount of screaming would stop what was coming and Bruce knew it.  Joe Chill’s bloodshot eyes darted around the alley like a cockroach caught in the light as he walked out from under the lamp and towards the boy’s mother.  He wanted the pearls, he always wanted the pearls.
 
It made him sick, the way his father whimpered and his mother cried when they saw the tiny pistol.  How the benevolent and wise Dr. Thomas Wayne simply handed Chill his wallet and begged him, actually begged him, to let them go.  But it never mattered.  In 6 years of nightmares, it never mattered.
 
Joe Chill grabbed his mother’s pearls and his father’s wallet, but he wouldn’t go.  He just stood there, every single night…shaking.  Until finally, some thought, some fear or some reason would claw its way into the forefront of his mind and he would do it.  Bruce saw the moment over and over; the moment when the stranger who took everything would close those bloodshot eyes and pull the trigger, again and again.  Every night for 6 years Joe Chill killed Bruce Wayne’s parents, and every night for 6 years Bruce would watch, helpless.

Weary and depressed Bruce slowly opened his eyes.  Alfred was there, as he always was, sitting in a chair looking anxious and even more sleep-deprived than Bruce.
 
“Good Morning Master Bruce.  I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty of preparing some herbal tea and lemon for your throat.  There are some biscuits and a bit of honey as well.”

Bruce rubbed the sleep from his eyes and pushed himself up into a sitting position.  “I was screaming again, wasn’t I Alfred?”

“You were.  I am sorry to say.”  Alfred’s eyes drifted to the floor.  “Master Bruce, in 6 years you have never spoken to anyone about it.  Not even to me.  It…it could help.”

Poor Alfred.  Thought Bruce.  He is so good to me and I don’t have the decency to let him talk to me about it.  Alfred is more of an uncle than he ever was a butler. But how can I possibly sit here and talk to him, when I am forced to see it every single night?  I can’t…I won’t.

“Not today Alfred.”

“Very good Sir.  I will prepare you a proper breakfast and Ms. Thompkins is here to check in on you as well.”

Leslie.  Leslie Thompkins…My mother and father’s trusted friend and Gotham City’s best medical practitioner.  If it weren’t for her and Alfred, I don’t know where I’d be...Or do I?  It wasn’t an accident when I fell down that well just after they died...and they knew it.

“I’ll take a shower and head down.”

“Very good. I feel it is important to tell you that she has already informed me of your dropping out of Gotham Prep and that she is increasingly aware of your anti-social behavior.”

“Alfred I...”

“Master Bruce, it is not my place to judge you.  I am here to counsel you if you ask for it, but you have no obligation to explain your decisions to me.”

“Thank you Alfred, I knew you would understand.”

“I do not understand Master Bruce, and I do not pretend to.  But that is not the point.  And although I will not pester you for an explanation, Leslie most certainly will.  Now, take your shower and I shall see you at breakfast.”  Alfred turned on a dime and disappeared behind the huge oak door to Bruce’s bedroom leaving him alone to contemplate what Leslie would say.  

I don’t know why I left Gotham Prep.  It just didn’t feel right.  All those kids, smiling and laughing…I just couldn’t take it anymore.  I can’t take any of it anymore.  Not while Joe Chill is still alive.  And as quickly as that, Bruce knew what he intended to do.

When he arrived in the dining hall all of the chairs had been removed from the long dinner table but for two.  One was occupied by Leslie Thompkins, her long white hair cropped perfectly mid-way down her back, and the other was sitting directly opposite from her.  Surely this was Alfred’s subtle attempt at forcing him to sit directly across from Leslie, but Bruce knew she would confront him no matter where he sat.
 
As he took his seat, Leslie’s pale blue eyes stayed locked onto his face.  Alfred swept in, placed a steaming plate of eggs, bacon, toast and potatoes in front of Bruce, hesitated, then swept out the way he had come in.

“Bruce.” Leslie’s voice cut through the quiet dimness of the room like a knife. “Why in heavens would you drop out of school?  Do you have any idea what your parents went through to send you to Gotham Prep?”

My parents are dead Leslie.  Nothing they’ve done matters now.  “I do.  And I’m sorry.”

Leslie’s face flushed red.  “You…You’re sorry?  Bruce…I know it has not been easy for you, but you have not given life a chance to move on.  You prefer solitude when you need companionship.  You need friends Bruce.  Alfred loves you and I love you, but you need children your own age to surround you, to lift you up and remind you that life is full of happiness and love.  Everyone must face loss in their lives but it is the weak who hide in the darkness and brood upon their sorrow…Not the strong.  You see that don’t you?”

The darkness gives me strength, my solitude brings me peace. “I do.  Honestly Ms. Thompkins, I do.  I just don’t feel right at Gotham Prep.  It’s…it’s just too close to home.”

Leslie’s cold hard eyes softened and Bruce knew he had her where he wanted her.  “I see.  I can understand that.  So, then you must have a plan.  I know you are a smart boy Bruce, you may only be 14 years old but you are far beyond your years.  You always have been…An old soul, as Alfred and I like to say.”  A small smile reached her lips.

I have a plan Leslie.  You won’t like it, but I have a plan. “Well, I have thought about it.  I’ve decided to take my GED and study abroad.”

The smile on Leslie’s lips started to wan.  “Bruce, you have to be 18 to get your GED...you have 4 years left.  Where did you plan to study abroad?  I’m certain we could find another prep school that you could attend in Metropolis perhaps or...”

No more prep schools Leslie.  No more schools at all.  “No.  My parents left me everything Leslie.  You know I can buy myself a GED if I really want to.”

Leslie sat back in her chair and let out a loud sigh.  “Where will you go Bruce?  What will you do?”

Bruce’s thoughts burned in his mind and in his heart.  I will seek out the darkness inside me and I will conquer it.  I will learn how to hunt men from the French master Ducard.  I will study ninjitsu under the Shinobi, hunt with the African Bushmen, and learn to control my body in Nepal.  I will train myself to perfection and one day, I will return.  To devour Joe Chill with the darkness inside me and to protect these streets until my dying breath.  I will become the Dark Knight.  

But what he said was, “I will learn who I am, and decide who I will become.”

The End

The Conclusion of The Widow Sabishane

Well folks, I took a long vacation but I was not idle. Here are the final pages of The Widow Sabishane. I do hope you enjoy them! More shorts to come soon, vacation time is over.

Upon reaching the doorway Mr. Klemmens could distinctly hear a group of men talking in a range of accents.  “We’ve already conquered almost every nation on the planet. Why, just look at all the flags we’ve collected!  I say we dock the Gray Plague and live land-side for a while.”  Said one of the voices.  “Well, I happen to know that there are still many places left uncharted and unconquered; ones like that tiny island just a few clicks back we raided.  And speaking of those insects, there have to be more of them hiding there somewhere, I can feel it.  We should bombard the entire island and salvage what’s left.” Said another.  “Nonsense!  We could use the aborigines as slaves; there is no need to waste them.”  Mr. Klemmens recalled Atushka’s tales of horror, gripping his scimitar in both hands as he ground his teeth.  “So these are the men who called the slaughter on those villagers.  There must be more than one captain. ” Thought Mr. Klemmens.  “I’ll kill them all.”

Mr. Klemmens quietly began to unsheathed his falchion and slowly walk towards the open door.  Tensing his muscles, Mr. Klemmens felt adrenaline coursing through his veins.  He peeked into the doorway for a split second and took a quick count, pulling his head back in an instant.  “Five on the left, four on the right, and two in the middle.” He whispered to himself.  With the adrenaline pounding in his head he rounded the corner and rushed towards the circular table where the men were gathered.  Time slowed and he saw each of their faces turn pale as they saw the warrior-cat with madness in his eyes rushing towards them, their jaws dropping like drawbridges.

 
Just as Mr. Klemmens leapt into the air to dispatch the closest man, he was hit hard in his right side.  His entire body went limp as it sailed across the room and smacked into a wall.  The sound of men laughing drifted into his ears as he tried to move.  Faces swam in and out of focus around him.  Until the silhouette of a large bald man blacked out the lights overhead and the rest of the men moved away.  Mr. Klemmens blinked hard to focus and saw the face of the giant man who had left the room earlier.  “You’re not as sneaky as you think you are, cat.”  reverberated the man’s deep voice, traveling through Mr. Klemmens as the room went dark and he lost consciousness.

Back on the deck of the ship the Widow Sabishane was getting impatient.  “Enough of this sitting business.” She said as she slowly stood up, her knees popping loudly with arthritis.  She began to walk the deck in the direction Mr. Klemmens had taken about half an hour ago until she reached the open door.  She looked around for her friend and noticed splashes of blood on one of the crates.  “Oh dear.”  She said aloud.  “Oh Mr. Klemmens, I do hope that’s not yours.”  The Widow walked into the doorway and began to slowly descend the stairs, withdrawing her flintlock pistol from its hiding place and loading it as she did.  

When she reached the bottom of the steps the pistol was loaded and cocked.  She was slow, but she was even more silent than Mr. Klemmens had been.  She looked down both pathways and listened to the sounds of the ship.  She heard nothing in the right path and an assortment of heavy machinery down the left path.  “The prisoners.” She said to herself as she began to walk down the path to her left.  As she continued walking the sounds became louder and she could now hear men and women calling out in pain and frustration.  Heavy sobs floated through the air as she walked onward.  Finally she came to the end of the corridor.  A tall brass archway led into a giant room with ceilings at least a hundred feet tall.  Giant cell blocks sat stacked one on top of the other as far as she could see.  Men and women were scattered on the ground as well, chained to a forge and banging out rivets and long steel beams.  The room seemed endless.  Thousands of emaciated men and women were stuffed into the cages like chicken on a farm; their rib cages bulging out of their sides and their bony fingers wrapped around steel bars like skeletons.  The Widow’s big blue eyes filled with tears but she blinked them back.  She hugged the wall as she held the pistol in both hands, moving slowly across the room.  “There has to be a master switch or some sort of mechanism to open these doors.”

 
As she looked around the room she heard a small voice behind her.  “You’re a friend of the kitty, aren’t you marm?”  She quickly turned around, pointing her gun in front of her as she did.  A tiny little girl in an orange and brown tattered dress cowered before her.  “Please don’t, I want to help you!” she cried out as she held her hands in front of her dirt-streaked face.  The Widow immediately lowered the pistol and stashed it in her satchel.  “Heavens child!  Never sneak up on an armed old lady.  Didn’t your mum teach you that?”  She said with a warm smile.  The little girl put her hands down and frowned.  “I never met my mummy.  I was born here in one o’ dem cages.”  The Widow, deeply moved with sorrow, bent down to the girl.  “I’m sorry Dearie.  You must be hungry, here take this.”  said the Widow as she took out a small scone and handed it to the girl, who promptly shoved the entire thing into her mouth and began to speak.  “I sah, tha, cuhtty.  Bag, muhn, tuk, him to pahn rum.” The Widow blinked in surprise. “You say you saw the kitty?  Who took him?”  The little girl swallowed hard and smacked her lips loudly.  “I saw the kitty, yes.  Big man took ‘im to the pain room missus.  Tha’s a nasty place that is, please don’t go there.”  The Widow’s heart filled with dread and she took the little girl by the shoulders.  “How long ago sweetheart?”  “Just afore you came in.  Please don’t go, it’sa awfully bad place.  People go in an they scream an they scream, but they don’t never come out.”

 
As if on cue, a blood-curdling scream came from beyond the far end of the room and the Widow knew it was Mr. Klemmens.  “Child, listen to me. Where is this room?”  The little girl reluctantly held out her hand and pointed in the direction of the scream.  “Where that just came from…at the end o’ dis room there’s a door.  It’s smaller than the rest and it’s always locked.”  The Widow looked her hard in the eyes, “And do you know a way to open all of these cages around us?  Is there a switch?”  The little girl brightened up, “Are you going to save us all missus?  Will you help us all go ‘ome?”  “I hope so child, please, do you know of a way?”  The little girl jumped up and down excitedly then stopped and looked at the ground with sadness.  “I do know, but if you flip tha switch then tha terrible screamin’ will start an alla the men will come.” The little girl covered her ears, “Please don’t let the screamin’ go on missus, it hurts me ears so bad.”  The Widow reached into her satchel and pulled out two cotton balls.  “If you stuff these into your ears it won’t hurt so badly.  Now let’s see where that switch is.”

The Widow’s plan was simple.  The little girl had been instructed to run to the each forge and to the bottom row of cages and tell the prisoners what was happening, she would tell them to head to the docks and steal the scouting vessels once the cages had been opened.  The men and women at the forges were to use their hammers and smash each other’s manacles right after the alarm began.  The Widow knew the prisoners would circulate the news and when the time came they would be ready.  Once this was done, the little girl (Claire, as the Widow had found out) was to stand by the switch, which was opposite of the door to the torture chamber where Mr. Klemmens was being held.  Once the Widow and Mr. Klemmens were out, Claire was to flip the switch.  They would then, hopefully, make a break for it with the other prisoners.

 
The little girl nodded her head when asked if she understood and the Widow made for the chamber.  As she stood outside looking at the panel on the wall, trying to figure out how to open it, she glanced over at the little girl.  Claire waved back happily as if playing a fun game and then dashed off towards the cages.  The Widow unsheathed her dagger, popped off the panel on the door and cut the wires underneath, shorting out the circuit.  The light above the door, which was red, flickered...and then went died as she placed the dagger back into its sheath.  “I knew that was too easy.” said the Widow under her breath.  She pushed herself against the metal door anyway and tried to nudge it to the left.  Surprisingly it slowly began to slide open.  When it was just barely ajar it ground to a halt and the Widow Sabishane could hear the deep voice of the giant-man.

 
“I’m guessing you’re the reason Blithe and Shorgun haven’t reported in.  Nice and quiet work…cat.  Too bad you’re on the wrong side.”  The Widow heard coughing and a heavy spitting sound, then the weakened voice of Mr. Klemmens carried itself to her ears.  “What makes you think...you’re on the right side?” choked Mr. Klemmens.  “Because you have...more wealth and...more power?  You steal all that you own and that...that makes you weak.  You can’t make lives for yourselves...so you steal other’s resources and use their ways of life as your own.  You have no culture, you have no tradition; you depend entirely upon all those who you persecute...You’re pathetic.”  The deep laughter of the giant man boomed through the doorway.  “Save your strength little kitten.  You’re going to need it for the next few hours, before you die.”  

While they talked the Widow had squeezed in through the tiny opening and she now stood in the doorway, the giant-man’s back was to her and she could see Mr. Klemmens.  Bound by barbed wire to a crudely cut slab of oak, he was barely recognizable.  Tufts of bloody fur were lying on the floor in tiny viscous pools of crimson liquid.  His left eye was a gaping hole, veins hung from the socket and blood covered the left side of his face, matting his fur.  A small table sat beside the monstrous man with an innumerable amount of nasty looking tools, every one of them wet with Mr. Klemmens’ blood.  The Widow held her hand over her mouth and her eyes welled up with tears.  Her body trembled with rage as she wrapped both hands around the flintlock pistol and raised it in front of her face, tears streaming down her cheeks, her arms shaking violently.  “Hey fat-head!”  She shouted.  The colossus turned in surprise and she immediately fired her single shot pistol.  The man looked up as smoke began to pour out of a tiny hole in his forehead and blood began to flow in a thin line down the middle of his face.  “You bi-” The huge man fell to his knees and dropped his head down, blood began to rush out of the tiny hole and well up onto the floor creating a large puddle, but the man did not collapse.  Instead he slowly looked up at the Widow and smiled crazily; blood oozed from the hole in his forehead as it dripped into his mouth, coating his teeth in a deep scarlet as his grin widened. 

 
“Sabishane!” shouted Mr. Klemmens hoarsely, “Run!”  The great beast of a man pulled his right knee up in an attempt to stand as blood continued to flow rapidly from his head wound.  “No.” said the Widow dryly as she stashed the pistol and unsheathed the dagger from her waistline.  She ran towards the giant-man screaming hoarsely, her white hair flowing out behind her like an awesome banner of pure white.  The man’s smile faded and his eyes widened with fear.  With one hand around the hilt of the tiny dagger and the palm of the other pressed firmly against the end of it the Widow leapt into the air, landing on the man’s chest as she rammed the 6-inch blade into his throat.  The humongous man tried to choke out another word but the widow twisted the blade.  The man sputtered and gurgled as she lept off and backed away.  Blood now poured from both wounds until finally the massive hulk collapsed onto the floor of the ghastly torture chamber.  The Widow looked at Mr. Klemmens for a long time before moving.

“Sabishane?” called out Mr. Klemmens in sickly thin voice.  “Are you alright?”  The Widow kicked the body of the giant man over and pulled her dagger from his throat, wiping it on her dress as she ran to Mr. Klemmens.  She quickly cut each wire that tied him down to the dead tree stump and embraced him as she sobbed heavily, her glasses squashed up against her face.  “Oh Mr. Klemmens!  Look at what they’ve done to you!”  Mr. Klemmens wearily wrapped his arms around the Widow and held her as tightly as he could.

A few moments later the Widow emerged from the torture chamber with Mr. Klemmens’ on her shoulder, his battered body covered in blood.  From across the hall Claire shrieked, “Kitty!” As she began to run for them the Widow Sabishane held up one free hand and shouted, “No Claire!  Hit the switch!  We have to move now.”  The little girl stumbled and almost fell as she quickly turned back around.  She jumped up and grabbed the metallic lever that stuck out from the wall, pulling on it with all her might.  The lever slowly moved downward as loud clicks came from behind the wall.  The sound of metal moving against metal began to echo throughout the entire hall and the three friends looked upward at the cages.  Men and women all around them were readying their hammers and bits of metal to free themselves from the shackles that held them to the forges.  Claire’s feet slowly touched the ground and the lever stopped moving as the three new friends stared upwards.  All of the cages slowly began to open and the prisoners began pouring out by the thousands.  Hammers began descending upon metal with a loud ring.  Then, suddenly, terror filled the old Widow’s heart as the alarm cut through the chaotic sounds of the escaping prisoners.  

WEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRN
WEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRN
WEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRN  

Red lights began to flash all around them and for a brief moment everyone froze.  Mr. Klemmens took a great effort and screamed so that the Widow could hear him over the siren’s ear piercing call, “Listen to me, we have to get to the engines.  If we don’t destroy them, there is nothing keeping them from chasing after us.  Even if all of the captains happen to die, the crew will just appoint another one to pick up where they left off.  Their evil is endless.”    The Widow nodded.  “But how do we find them?” she yelled loudly. “I know where tha engines are missus.  I can take you!” The Widow looked down at Claire and smiled sadly.  “It’s too dangerous my dear.  Follow the other prisoners while the crew is still scrambling to catch up.  They’ve been instructed to get to the docking bay and commandeer all of the boats; they can take you with them!”  The little girl’s face contorted into a frown and she put her hands on her hips.  “You ain’t gonna find the engines wid out me marm.  So’s that’s what it got to be.”  The Widow reluctantly agreed and Claire wasted no time before tearing off through the great hall towards the east side of the boat.  The Widow and Mr. Klemmens slowly followed behind as the blaring of the alarm and the chaos of the escaping prisoners filled the air.

 
The three of them traveled through countless twisting corridors as they descended deeper into the giant vessel.  Mr. Klemmens was getting weaker from the constant loss of blood and the Widow began to tire from supporting him.  Finally Claire stopped in front of a large, dark, metal door.  “Behind this door’s the end-geenes missus.”  The Widow nodded and asked her to open it.  Claire pushed aside a small door on a tiny panel and hit the big square button that was behind it.  Compressed air blew out from under the door and it slowly slid upward, revealing a large room with rows upon rows of water tanks.  The tanks were a brass colored metal and running from them were large metallic pipes, each one leading into a different pressure vessel where the water was being boiled.  Boilers hissed as the saturated steam was pushed out of them by large pistons, forced into larger motor units situated in the center of the room.  Throughout the room were a few dozen prisoners armed with various tools who were attempting to fight off their guards.

 
The Widow slowly eased Mr. Klemmens onto the floor as he slid the grenade-laden belt from his shoulder and placed it in his lap.  Sitting on the floor with his back propped up against the wall, he pulled the Widow close to him.  “You have to leave me here.  Take the little girl and get out to the docking bay.”  “What are you talking about Mr. Klemmens?  No one is staying here.  We’re going to set those grenades and we’re all going to get back to the boat together.”  The orange and gold cat smiled wearily and spit out a gob of blood.  “Look at me Sabishane.  I’m barely in one piece.  If you try to carry me to the boats you’ll never make it out.”  The old woman frowned, scrunching up her wrinkles as she did so.  “Nonsense Mr. Klemmens.  It simply isn’t your time.  Besides, I didn’t rescue you from that ridiculous bald man for you to die on me now.”  Mr. Klemmens smiled sheepishly and handed her the belt of grenades.  “Well, then what’s the plan old woman?”  The Widow looked around at all the boilers.  “I think the only thing to do is to blow up as many of these great big things as possible.  Without them they can’t heat the water for steam I think, not to mention it looks like the pipes feed directly into some sort of a motor.  If we’re lucky the blasts will reach them as well.  The only thing I’m worried about is that these grenades only have a few seconds before they explode so we’ll have to move from the back of the room to the front if we want to get them all.  You see Mr. Klemmens, even if I did let you stay, you aren’t fast enough to set the grenades and get to the next boiler before it explodes.”  Mr. Klemmens smiled half-heartedly, “OK, OK, I understand.  No heroics for this cat.  Now, how will we get to the docks before this ship sinks?” “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it Mr. Klemmens.” Said the Widow as she stood up and tossed the belt of grenades over her shoulder while turning to Claire.  “Dearie, listen to me.  Stay here with Mr. Klemmens, there are going to be some loud noises but I don’t want you to be afraid, Mr. Klemmens is here for you.  I’m going to make sure this ship never sets sail again.”  The little girl looked up at the Widow Sabishane and nodded, she then sat down by Mr. Klemmens and put her arms around his waist, burying her head into his fur.  The Widow looked down at him and smiled.  “You see Mr. Klemmens?  Not your time.”  Mr. Klemmens looked down at the little girl confused.  “She needs you, and she’ll need you even more after this.”  The Widow turned and began to run towards the boilers before he could ask what she had meant.

The Widow Sabishane ran past the men who were fighting the guards, most of them had been killed and rest were being tied up.  She shouted to the men over the loud sounds of the alarm.  “Get out of here, now!  I’m going to destroy the boilers and sink the ship!  The rest of the prisoners are already free, get to the docks and join them!”  The men looked shocked but they began to run anyway.  When she had gotten to the last row of boilers the Widow plucked off 2 grenades from the belt she had slung across her shoulder.  She pulled the pins simultaneously and wedged them under one of the pipes.  She quickly got to her feet and ran to the next row of boilers to do the same.  As she made her way to the middle of the room the first of the grenades exploded with a deep boom.  The floor shook violently and the Widow briefly stumbled.  The blasts from the grenades not only blew up the boilers but just as the Widow had predicted, the force of the explosion made its way into the motor units as well.

 
The sounds of metal shrapnel bouncing off the walls were loud and close, despite the Widow’s distance from the first explosion.  The grenades all began to explode one after the other, as the Widow got close enough to Mr. Klemmens to shout, she told him what to do.  “Mr. Klemmens!  Pick yourself up and get to the door, we’re going to seal it behind us!”  Mr. Klemmens slowly got to his feet, pushing Claire in front of him as he did so.  “Run Claire, get to the other side of the door.  I’ll be right behind you.”  The frightened little girl ran ahead and Mr. Klemmens slowly limped his way to the door.  As he finally passed through the doorway he turned around to look for the Widow.  She had set the last 2 grenades and was about 100 feet away from the door.

 
Mr. Klemmens saw the explosions behind her, giant clouds of fire rising into the air, scorching the ceilings.  Then, without warning, the boilers the Widow had just come from exploded into a fireball of water and metal.  The force of the blast sent shards of metal in all directions as Mr. Klemmens instinctually grabbed Claire and turned to hide behind the other side of the doorway.  Time slowed dramatically as he turned his head.  He saw the Widow running with explosion licking at her heels, her face locked in a grimace.  And then it happened, the Widow’s determined face slackened and she began to fall.  Mr. Klemmens’ stomach tightened and in one instance he let go of Claire and shouted for her to stay behind the wall.  Adrenaline rushed through him as he turned back again and ran for the door. As he crossed the threshold a violent explosions rocked the ship and he was forced to the floor.

Just a few feet away was the Widow, lying face down.  “Sabishane!” shouted Mr. Klemmens as he stretched his hand out towards her.  “Sabishane get up!  We have to go!”  Blood was pooling up around him but the Widow did not move and Mr. Klemmens had to push himself up to crawl towards her.  It was then that he saw the piece of metal, sticking out of her back like a knife, surrounded by a small patch of red soaked cloth.  “No.” he gasped under the explosions.  Carefully Mr. Klemmens grabbed her by the shoulders and began to drag her back behind the door with all the strength he could muster.  Once he had crossed back over the doorway he called to Claire, “Quickly, close the door!”  Claire froze and her eyes filled with tears at the sight of the Widow.  “NOW CLAIRE, THE DOOR!”  The little girl quickly came to her senses and jumped up, moving aside the panel and punching the button.  The door slammed down just as the last of the explosions came hurtling towards them in a huge wave of fire and metal.

 
The alarms had stopped and the muffled sounds of steel screaming and crashing to the ground echoed from behind the large, dark, metallic door.  The Widow Sabishane was lying in Mr. Klemmens’ lap as tears ran down his face; a small trickle of blood was resting on the corner of her mouth and her big eyes were opened just slightly. “Mr. Klemmens…Take the girl and get to the docks.  You haven’t much time.”  Claire walked over to them sullenly and wrapped her arms around Mr. Klemmens from behind.  “I will not leave you Sabishane.” He cried stiffly.  The Widow smiled a tiny, weak smile and faintly grabbed Mr. Klemmens paw, placing it on Claire’s hand.  “Don’t be stupid, you have her to protect now.  Besides, my time has been coming for...a while now.  The Moon is at its apex, the wind is at rest, and the ocean and I are at peace.”  Mr. Klemmens stared at the little black haired girl and his heart filled with pride and sadness.  “I understand Evelyn.” He said as he picked up the Widow’s head from his lap and carefully laid it down onto a folded bundle of cloth on the floor.  The old woman looked up at him with her ancient blue eyes one last time and smiled her great big smile.  “Thank you Mr. Archibald Klemmens.” And she closed her eyes for the last time.

Mr. Klemmens ran as fast as he could, paw in hand with Claire as the little girl led him through the twisting corridors of the ship.  The giant ship was sinking and Mr. Klemmens could hear water behind them, rushing into the corridors.  “It’s here!  We’re here!” shouted Claire as they came into a large room.  There were a few prisoners still fighting guards but as the ship began to tilt and the ground became unlevel the men abandoned their battles and headed for the ships, prisoners and guards alike.  Mr. Klemmens spotted a small tugboat and scooped up Claire.  As he ran for the boat the water that chased him burst out of the corridor, taking a group of men who were still fighting with it and bashing them up against a wall.  Mr. Klemmens ran harder pushing himself as far as he could go, pain exploding across his entire body and the taste of blood was rich in his mouth.  He reached the boat and slashed the rope that held it to the dock with one claw.  Mr. Klemmens ran up the plank that led onto the deck of the tiny vessel and kicked it off once he had crossed. Running to the engine he placed Claire down and shouted out to her, “Get down below in the crew’s quarters, it’s too dangerous for you up here.”  Claire saw the doorway and ran for it.

 
Mr. Klemmens leapt up to the Captain’s seat and turned the tiny key in the ignition.  The boat sputtered and Mr. Klemmens’ heart sunk; the boat would not start.  A huge blast of water hit the back of the tiny tugboat, surging them forward, out of the Gray Plague’s dock and into the dark waters of the ocean.  Mr. Klemmens tried the key again and this time the engine fired up.  He slammed the yoke as far forward as he could and the ship took off.  Mr. Archibald Klemmens set the till and turned around.  Plumes of smoke rose from the Gray Plague and fire spewed from giant holes all across the hull, lighting up the night sky and illuminating the hundreds of tiny ships that moved silently away from the sinking titanic. A bead of a tear formed in his remaining eye and he blinked it away as the ship slowly sunk into the depths of the ocean.  “Goodbye Evelyn.” He said to himself as he watched the ship disappear beneath the black ocean.  “Goodbye Widow Sabishane.”

Part VI

The Final Lesson

As the Widow Sabishane’s body drifted downwards, the Ocean sent a current through the broken hull of the massive ship.  It moved along all of the halls and into each room where it wrapped itself around the remaining captains and crew and dragged them all deeper into the abyss.  It traveled through the entire ship until finally it found the Widow.  Her long white hair drifted out of her rubber rain slicker as she hung motionless in the water.  The Ocean smiled and wrapped its strong arms around her.  “You’ve done your part Evelyn Sabishane.  It is time to go home.”  The currents pulled her out of the ship and carried her for a long, long time.  Eventually, Evelyn Sabishane would reach the tides of her homeland and the Earth would bring her ashore and lay her body to rest.

 
Meanwhile, Mr. Klemmens and Claire had reached the old Victorian boathouse and set sail for Apuwashi with a few of the escaped prisoner vessels during the night.  As they reached the beaches of the tiny majestic island, the sun was just coming up over the horizon.  Many of the villagers had gathered on the shores of Apuwashi as they had seen the smoke of the giant burning vessel from the sanctuary.  When Mr. Klemmens and Claire came ashore Chief Atushka was waiting with a giant grin upon his face.  As they got closer his smile faded.  Mr. Klemmens looked down at the black sand of the Apuwashi shore, his one arm resting on Claire for support.  “She’s gone Atushka.”  The Chief looked off towards the ocean and took in a deep breath.  “Then we will honor her tonight as though she were still among us.  Come, you need to dress your wounds and rest.”  The tiny Chief led them into the jungle towards the sanctuary in silence.

 
That night music played and the villagers danced.  Atushka had his people prepare a huge feast in the Widow’s honor on the beaches of the island.  Before they began the feast, the Chief said a few words honoring the bravery of the Widow and the prisoners who did not make it.  He then asked everyone to take a moment of silence.  Mr. Klemmens hung his head low; a leather eye patch now resting over the spot where his left eye had been.  His remaining eye slowly filled up with tears and they began to drip into the sand, creating tiny craters where they landed.  Unable to bear the pain he stood up from the fire and walked down the length of the beach.  He wandered for a little while, until he was far enough away so that the fires of the celebration barely illuminated his face.  He sat down on the beach just above the rising tide and began to sob heavily.

 

“Why are you crying Mr. Klemmens?” said the old woman’s voice.  Mr. Klemmens looked up sharply and turned his head back and forth in confusion, but he saw no one.  “Widow?”  He asked the wind as it lightly blew through his fur.  “I am here Archibald.” Said the old woman’s voice.  Mr. Klemmens stood up and turned around desperately.  “Widow, where are you?  I am lost without you!”  “Calm down dear, calm down.  I am all around you.  I am in the ocean, the wind and the moon.  I am in you Mr. Klemmens, and I always will be.  Are you so quick to forget your lessons?”  Mr. Klemmens smiled faintly.  “No, forgive me Sabishane.  I know that we are all connected, and...if I am observant then…”  “Then you can see those connections.”  As the Widow’s voice said this, a tiny hand slipped into Mr. Klemmen’s paw and held it tight.  When he looked down, Claire was smiling up at him brightly and the orange and gold Somali cat smiled back.  “Now you see Mr. Klemmens.” Echoed the Widow Sabishane’s voice.  “Now you see.”

The End

The Widow Sabishane - Part V, Page 3

The dead men were heavy in his paws as Mr. Klemmens dragged their bodies to the edge of the ship and tossed them over.  The man with the green bandanna's belt full of grenades had fallen from his corpse and Mr. Klemmens had picked it up.  Turning the yellow belt over in his paws, he examined each of the eight grenades before tying it around his own waist.  Armed with explosives Mr. Klemmens drew his scimitar once again, keeping it out in front as he began to descend the dark stairwell before him, leaving the heavy metal door ajar just in case.

The stairwell was long and dark, pressing in around him as he walked.  Mr. Klemmens began to wonder if the stairwell would ever end, or if he would be wandering the dark passage forever when a thin stream of light finally reached his glowing eyes.  "At last." he muttered to himself.  Pushing his back against the left side of the stairwell, Mr. Klemmens descended the remaining stairs very slowly, his scimitar now in both hands and at the ready.  When he got to the bottom step he saw that no one was there, but it brought him no comfort. "An out of sight enemy makes for an out of sight threat.  I do not like this."  Mr. Klemmens sighed heavily.  The last step had brought him to a T.  His choices were not kindly labeled, like a nice hotel or a bottle of whiskey might be.  Left or right were his only options.

"Now what?" he said lamely.  Then, remembering what the Widow had said, Mr. Klemmens took in a deep breath and began to observe his surroundings solemnly.  To the right he heard deep muffled voices and what sounded like laughter.  He could smell roasted garlic and various spices wafting through the air on invisible waves of fragrance.  Down the left passage he could hear the hiss of cooling metal, the clang of hammers against steel, and the grunting of men working hard labor.  The smell of sulfur and sweat stung his nose as he wriggled his whiskers in disgust.  Suddenly, Mr. Klemmens could see everything as though it were laid out in front of him.  "The left path leads to a foundry for certain, and if I know anything at all, then that is where they're keeping the prisoners." he thought to himself.  "And to the right...A kitchen and a galley no doubt."  After a moment's consideration Mr. Klemmens decided the best thing to do would be to take the path to the right.  If there was a captain to this vessel there was a good chance he'd be far from the workers and closer to the kitchen at this time of night.  "I can go back for the prisoners" he reasoned, "but what's to stop the ship from coming after us if the captain still breathes?"  Mr. Klemmens pulled his sword up into a defensive position once more and headed down the hallway, towards the deep voices and mouth-watering aromas.

As the voices got louder and the scent of freshly prepared food grew stronger, Mr. Klemmens' movements became brief and calculated.   Finally he reached the end of the hallway, here it broke out into three more paths; straight, right, and left.  Without much deliberation he took the straight path, reasoning with himself that he had already been going in that direction and he did not want to lose track of how far he had come.  As Mr. Klemmens took his first step down the next passageway, a door flew open in front of him and a bevy of men's voices came pouring out in a cacophony of laughter and argument.  The nimble cat quickly stepped backward and hid himself around the corner of the three-way pass he had just come through.  Peeking out over the side, Mr. Klemmens gaped as a giant of a man came walking out of the galley and into the hall, laughing deeply at some unheard joke.

The bald man walked with his back hunched forward as he was too tall to stand up straight in the ship's narrow corridors.  The giant's shoulders were almost as broad as the hallway was wide, and each hand was as big as Mr. Klemmens himself.  The huge man wore a red V-neck blouse and tattered white pants; his belt was thick leather with a large buckle in the shape of a skull, or was it a skull?  Mr. Klemmens could not tell.  Tucked into the belt, as if it weighed nothing, was a huge hammer.  Its massive head was twice the size of his hands and Mr. Klemmens could scarcely believe that any other man could actually wield it.  The hulking mass stopped for a moment and Mr. Klemmens' grip tightened anxiously around the hilt of his scimitar.  The man's huge bald head rose into the air and his broad, flat nose inhaled deeply.  The muscles in Mr. Klemmens' arms began thrumming  with electricity and he could feel the fur on his back bristle.  But the mountainous man only snorted loudly, turned, and began to walk down the hall and away from Mr. Klemmens.  The Somali cat swallowed the lump that had found it's way into his throat as he let his heartbeat slow.  When the man was out of sight, he turned the corner and began walking back down the hallway, towards the open door of the ship's galley and the choir of men behind it.

The Widow Sabishane - Part V, Page 2

Mr. Klemmens cursed to himself, straining his eyes against the beating rain as he crept along the deck of the island-sized ship.  He had been skimming along the deck for some time, searching for an entrance that lead into the bowels of the ship but had not seen a single doorway or hatch since leaving the Widow.  Just as he was about to turn back, Mr. Klemmens' noticed the shadow of a small rectangular structure through the heavy downpour ahead.  Just a few yards away sat a small steel shelter with a heavy matching door.  Above the frame of the doorway pulsed a large red light.  Mr. Klemmens tilted his head sideways with curiosity before moving to investigate.   Suddenly, just as he reached out for the handle, there was a loud beep and the light at the top of the door flashed green.  Mr. Klemmens skittered across the deck on all fours and slammed himself against a stack of crates nearby, just barely out of sight.  The steel door swung open and two lank men stepped out of the dark entrance way.  He could see corrugated metal steps beneath their feet and a downward sloping handrail fastened to the wall.  "Bingo." said Mr. Klemmens, as the door was shut and the red light flickered back on.

The men were tall and rough looking.  One of them had a red bandanna with black paisleys tied around his head like a sweat band, his long, greasy black hair flowing out and over it like a fountain of crude oil; his face was a war-torn vista, full of pock marks the size of small craters and covered with dozens of thin little scars like a thick, fleshy, spiderweb.  The other man wore a pleated navy blue jacket with a green bandanna and white paisleys.  "Must be a uniform thing." joked the Somali cat.  He wore gold-rimmed spectacles and had a curly brown mustache with a devil's goatee.  Mr. Klemmens noticed that both of the  men were carrying weapons, the man in green carried a semi-automatic pistol tucked into a holster on his pants and the man in red had a variety of grenades attached to a gold colored scarf he wore as a belt with a short sword tucked into the back.  Mr. Klemmens carefully reached above him with both hands and silently unsheathed his scimitar from it's scabbard behind his head, bringing it down slowly and steadily until the blade floated in front of his face.

The men were talking in a language Mr. Klemmens could not understand as he sat behind the small stack of crates griping his sword, waiting patiently for an opportunity to strike.  After a few moments of idle chatter the man in red reached into his stain-spotted shirt and pulled out a flask.  As both men began to drink heavily from it, Mr. Klemmens climbed to the top of the crates, staying low as as possible while he watched the men carry on with one another.  After some time, when the flask was empty, the man in green mumbled drunkenly and walked to the side of the boat, leaning over the edge and groaning as he retched.  The man in red laughed loudly as he opened the door and leaned against it, keeping it ajar as he waited for his lackey to finish.  Mr. Klemmens saw his opportunity and took it.
 
Gripping the scimitar in both hands, the agile cat launched himself from the top of the crates at the man in red.  In a flash of fur and metal Mr. Klemmens flew through the air like a corkscrew, twisting his body and hissing loudly as he flew over the man in red.  The gaunt man's eyes bulged as time slowed to a halt.  Mr. Klemmens spun in the air above the man's head, bringing the scimitar down from above his right shoulder as the man fumbled with his keys, trying desperately to drop them in order to arm himself; but it was too late.  The man in red gaped as Mr. Klemmens  brought his sword down with with both paws, slicing through the man's upturned face and driving the blade down through his sputtering throat until the sharp blade bit deeply into his collar bone.  Mr. Klemmens landed softly behind him,  a spray of crimson blood speckled his face and stained his fur.  The man in the red bandanna's body stood with Mr. Klemmens still clutching the hilt of the scimitar buried deep within his neck.
 
The man in green wiped vomit from the corner of his mouth with a dirty sleeve as he turned back towards the entrance way.  Turning pale the instantly, the man retched again at the sight of his friend's body. Realizing what was about to happen the man began fumbling for his pistol drunkenly, his eyes still staring ahead in horror.  Mr. Klemmens steadied his grip on the scimitar and pushed the still-standing body of the dead man forward with his foot, unsheathing the sword it from it's fleshy scabbard and leaving the man's body to droop forward.  As he walked towards the man in green Mr. Klemmens unsheathed his second sword, the falchion, with his one free paw.  When it was loose he let both arms fall to his sides, the two sword blades dragging along the deck beside him while he walked.
 
The man in green's hands shook visibly as he fumbled with his gun, getting it stuck on the holster as he desperately tried to arm himself.  Mr. Klemmens brought the swords up high and crossed both blades in front of him like a large pair of scissors as he burst into a sprint.  Finally the man in green wrenched his gun with all his strength, pulling it loose.  But Mr. Klemmens had gotten close enough.  With a powerful thrust he leapt up into the air, flying like a guillotine towards the trembling man.  Lightening stuck, and as it ripped across the night sky Mr. Klemmens pushed the two sword handles towards each other, closing the blades around the man's neck.  The man in green's body wavered while a sickeningly  wet thud sounded at his feet.  A moment later, blood and rainwater swirled around and around as a brown-haired head with a curly mustache and a devil's goatee rolled across the deck.  Mr. Klemmens sheathed his swords without a word and set about gathering the bodies.

The Widow Sabishane - Part V, Page 1

Part V

The Gray Plague

The last rays of sunlight were just slipping beneath the horizon when the Widow's rowboat quietly thumped against the giant vessel's hull.  "We we've made it this far Mr. Klemmens." said the Widow breathlessly, stowing away the oars so as not to trip over them.  She and Mr. Klemmens had followed the immense ship as closely as they could for the rest of the afternoon.  Just when they thought they were about to lose it, the ship stopped dead and the old Victorian boathouse was finally able to catch up.  The Widow and Mr. Klemmens had waited until the sun was just about to set before grabbing some supplies and approaching the vessel, believing it  would be harder to spot them on the dark blue sea at dusk.

Rain had begun to drizzle lightly as they set out in the small rowboat and now, as Mr. Klemmens tied the boat to a cleat on the monster-ship's hull, it was turning into a squall.  The rain poured down like ice cold daggers as the Widow grabbed the flintlock pistol she had wrapped in a cloth and shoved it into her satchel.  She wore a rubber slicker over her dress and had secured a tiny dagger to her thigh with an old red scarf.  "Ready?" she whispered to Mr. Klemmens, who was standing at the stern of the rowboat wearing a dark green, hooded cape; a grappling hook dangling from his throwing paw.  The old scimitar he wore was now slung over his shoulder, crisscrossing on his back with a falchion in a red scabbard.  He nodded to the Widow as he swung his grappling hook around and around, faster and faster.  Then with supreme timing and incredible accuracy he let go of the hook, sending it catapulting up, over, and onto the deck of the ship.  He winced at the metal clang it made and yanked hard, wedging the hook into the underside ledge of the deck.  He tugged again to check the tension and began to climb upwards, slowly.  "Stay in the boat until I signal you Sabishane.  Let me scout out the vessel first." said Mr. Klemmens.  The Widow looked up at him, the rain splattering off her thick glasses as she nodded solemnly.
 
Mr. Klemmens flattened his ears back and peeked over the ledge of the deck.  His glowing eyes darted back and forth in the darkness as rain spattered loudly on the metal deck.  Thunder rolled above him and lightening cracked through the thick black clouds, illuminating the huge steaming towers and the giant cogs of black metal that loomed over him.  The colossal black wheels turned endlessly; over and over while iron and steel shrieked like a dying banshees, churning  the great engines below.  Mr. Klemmens stayed still for a moment, peering over the edge of the deck.  When he did not see anyone pass by, he slowly climbed up over the ledge and jumped onto the deck.  Keeping to the shadows Mr. Klemmens skulked around the area, checking for signs of sentries or guards...but there were none.  In fact, the entire deck of the ship seemed abandoned aside from stacks of crates and a few empty oil drums.  Mr. Klemmens snuck back to the ledge and signaled the Widow to come up.
 
Down in the rowboat, the Widow Sabishane tied the end of the rope that was dangling from the grappling hook around her waist and gave it a tug before beginning  to climb up.  When she arrived at the top Mr. Klemmens helped to pull her over the ledge and they both sat hunkered down in the shadows.  "There are no guards anywhere Sabishane." Mr. Klemmens whispered. "Just boxes and oil drums."  The Widow looked around warily as the rain came pattering off her slicker and cascading down  the front of her hood, like several miniature waterfalls.  "Alright, let's find a way in and see if we can locate where they keep the prisoners."  Mr. Klemmens nodded and motioned for the Widow to stay put.  He got down on all fours and lowered himself to the floor so that his belly was barely skimming the deck, as he began to crawl towards the bow of the giant vessel.

The Widow Sabishane - Part IV, Page 3

        After the Chief had finished his tale and every belly was full, he took the Widow and Mr. Klemmens on a tour of the village. Together they spent a solid chunk of the afternoon walking along the hanging rope bridges, sharing stories, eating food, meeting villagers and just generally having a good time. When the sun finally began to dip towards the horizon, the Widow Sabishane thanked the Chief for his hospitality and asked for directions back to the beach. Sad to see the Widow and Mr. Klemmens go, the villagers all lined up by the mysterious stone gate and waved them a heartfelt goodbye.

Atushka performed his ritual on the stone and when they had all opened their eyes they were back in the clearing of the jungle. "How do you do that Atushka?" asked Mr. Klemmens curiously "I must admit, I am very intrigued." The short, dark-skinned man looked up at Mr. Klemmens with his big brown eyes and smiled. "Magic!" he said, as he threw back his head and released a rumbling bout of deep laughter. "And to think, I was just starting to like you." replied Mr. Klemmens. Atushka's laugh turned into a high-pitched giggle as he bounded over to the large Somali cat, picked him up with surprising strength and hugged him tightly. "You are a good man, for a cat." said the Chief cheerily. "Take care of de young lady." The Widow Sabishane smiled warmly as she knelt down to the tiny man and embraced him. "Thank you Atushka. I will be thinking of you and your people, wishing for a safe return for the ones whom you have lost. I truly hope to see you again before I leave this world." Atushka blinked back his own tears and kissed the Widow on the hand before bowing to her. "You are most welcome Madame. And do not worry, de Spirits tell me I will see you again soon. Now, sail carefully and keep a lookout for de gray ship. You will know when you spot it, for it will fill de entire horizon." As the two friends walked away, the great Chief's smile slowly turned into a deep frown. He looked out towards the ocean and breathed in heavily. "I understand de order of life, but I will still be sad to see her go."

The walk back to the rowboat was relatively silent as Mr. Klemmens and the Widow were both thinking heavily about the Apuwashi tribe and the situation they were in. As soon as they had reached the boathouse the Widow stomped her feet hard and spun around completely. "There!" she said relieved, "I've just left all of the bad energy right here on the deck. Mr. Klemmens, if you would be so kind, please do the same and then sweep that portion of the deck for me will you?" As Mr. Klemmens hoisted himself up over the deck he smiled at her. "Of course Sabishane...Let's right ourselves and finish this day out in happiness." As he did this, the Widow secured the halyard to the head of the sail and began to hoist it up into the air. When it was all the way to the top, she tied the remaining line around a cleat on the mast and took hold of the helm.

The Widow Sabishane looked out over the water and smiled as she ran her wrinkled old hands over the smooth wheel of the helm and sucked in the salty air as hard as she could. As she let it all out she gave the wheel a strong clockwise spin before grabbing it sharply and holding it perfectly still. "Where are we going Sabishane?" Mr. Klemmens called out as he climbed up the ladder that lead to the crow's nest. The Widow Sabishane smiled and called up to him "Wherever the wind takes us my friend!" And as if she had called upon it herself, the wind came suddenly and powerfully. It surged westward, filling the giant sails that were tied to the large mast in the center of the deck and began pushing the boathouse forward with great speed. The Widow flicked a tiny switch behind the steering wheel and a few moments later music filled the air as an invigorating Flamenco guitar began playing out over the loud speakers.

As the slowly setting sun shined down upon her and the old Victorian boathouse sailed over the wide blue yonder, the spray of the ocean kissed the Widow's wrinkled old face. She smiled delightfully as the wind wiped around her, cooling her skin just as the sun began to make it sweat and enormous waves crashed against the walls of the huge Victorian house as it sailed along, its barnacle-covered bottom sloshing in and out of the water as the ocean raised and lowered the ship. They had sailed just a few miles out from Apuwashi when Mr. Klemmens began shouting, "Land ho Sabishane! Land ho!" The Widow quickly picked up her monocular from the brass mount just below the helm's steering wheel and extended it as far as it could go. She held it up to her right eye as the blood-orange sun glinted off its shiny surface. Narrowing her eyes she saw a large dark mass far out on the water and her heart sank. "That's not land Mr. Klemmens!" the old lady shouted. Mr. Klemmens squinted his own eyes, pulling out a large pair of binoculars he rarely had cause to use. "Well what in heaven's name is it?" he called below. The Widow Sabishane frowned as she bent her head back and looked upwards at the crow's nest where Mr. Klemmens stood watch. "It's a ship, a war vessel." Mr. Klemmens finally gave in and brought the binoculars up to his face, quickly adjusting the focus. "Oh." was all the talking cat could say.

Stretching from one end of the horizon to the other, was a massive ship. Its hull was a dull gray metal, which Mr. Klemmens guessed was a combination of steel and iron. He saw huge towers pouring out thick clouds of steam and metallic cogs that turned one another as they sat, sporadically jutting out from what looked like the deck of the ship. "A steam-powered ship of that size is impossible." he heard himself say. Yet there it was, with thousands of flags fluttering in the wind from hundreds of poles across it's deck, each one bearing a different emblem. Some were large and impressive with fire and dragons or skulls and swords, others were adorned with fancy gold lettering or a coat of arms and looked to be made of expensive silk, while even more flags hung lower on the poles and were torn and ratty looking, often bearing a modest sigil. What he saw last was the most terrifying. In the broadside of the ship, were massive square outlines that could only have one thing hiding behind them. "Cannons..." whispered Mr. Klemmens to himself.

By tracking the motion of the vessel's crest in the water, Mr. Klemmens quickly noted the ship's speed and direction. "Sabishane, that thing is armed, and it's headed due north at about...about 100 knots!" The Widow snapped her head towards the crow's nest and shouted, "That's not possible, not something that large!" Mr. Klemmens continued to stare out of his binoculars. "Widow, if I'm wrong then so much the better for it. But somehow that steamship is tearing right through the ocean!" The Widow Sabishane slammed her monocular shut and squeezed it tightly. "Well then, what are we waiting for? There are Apuwashi prisoners aboard that ship Mr. Klemmens. Let us go and fetch them."