001. The Harbor

Hugo, winded, lets the current bring him into Eller Harbor, its water brackish and oilstained. The big cargo ships dock at the south end but here it’s mostly shrimp boats and garbage scows. He glances back and sees a column of black smoke but no other sign of the Khamsin.

(He’s a thousand miles from home, a thousand years from yesterday, but the familiar skyline of Fort Black forces him to admit he’s only, what, four exits from his house? And only twenty-four hours from when he told his parents and his twin sister to, quote, fuck off forever?)

Hugo paddles to the nearest pier and hauls himself up with a grunt. An ancient, hunched fisherman yells at him for scaring away the fish with his stench. Hugo shakes the water out of his hair and pant legs, raises his cuffed wrists and says: “Sorry, old timer, but could you maybe recommend a good locksmith?”

The fisherman sets his pole on the dock and looks the situation over a little. “You bust out a the joint or what’s the deal here,” he says.

“You know Frank Muto?” Hugo asks, his voice coarse with salt.

The fisherman winces, says: “I ain’t know whatever you’re going on about.”

“Well the guy you don’t know just kidnapped me and tried to drown me and I could use a little help.”

“If I happened to know who this Frank Muto was, I might also happen to know he ain’t the type to drown some punk kid for no reason.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Hugo cries. “I did basically nothing!”

The fisherman tries to take a long, ponderous puff on his pipe and then remembers the goddamn doctor’s orders about the pipe. Angry, he stabs a thumb at the row of crooked shacks that runs along this stretch of the esplanade. “Kiepper Frico,” he says.

Hugo slumps against the railing, exhausted. “I don’t know what you’re saying, old soul.”

000. The Figurehead

A handcuffed body floats there in the ocean. It sports a nice burgundy three-piece suit and no shoes. The look on its face is that of a child having a funny dream.

The shattered prow of the Khamsin plunges through the water. The figurehead, busty sea-paladin Phadis, leads the way downward. Hugo Hull is startled awake. He breathes in saltwater, chokes, thrashes. He works his legs and follows the bubbles to the surface and lets out a hoarse gasp. He turns to see the flaming wreckage of Muto’s ship, now completely split in two. Smoke fills the sky, the crew screams from the waves.

OK yeah time to go, Hugo thinks. He finds the coastline and sees a cluster of skyscrapers framed by evergreens. He swims for the shore, for Fort Black.