Page of Wands

On The Front Lines—DAWN

Our ship is slowly sinking with the crew on it. Sailor Lou, one would think in his element, moans as the water surges around his legs.

“I’m sorry,” I tell my men, “You already get paid poorly. And now This!”

We have been making a painstakingly slow deployment to the front lines via transatlantic voyage by the North Sea passage. We are running out of rations, as most of it has been ruined in the storms and shark attacks. My rations are almost gone. And no one has dared to eat the huge dead shark that we have managed out of sheer revenge to wrench unto the deck, beat to death with cudgels and cook.

I gave in night and ripped a piece off with my fork. Bland. It at least gave me the strength to investigate the treachery about to go down above deck as the ship’s crew and my soldiers get at each other’s throat.

Anyway. I was heading above deck with a belly full of lukewarm shark meat when Watch announced “Ice berg dead ahead!”

A little overplayed, don’t you think?

Everyone rushed up past me on the stairwell, but they are not icebergs but buildings in the distance. We have reached land.

More to the point, there was a navy helicopter being chased and hopelessly outmatched by an enemy plane; attempting to outmaneuver the helicopter ditches in the ocean off our port side. I am obliged to jump off the side into the night sea to swim out and try to rescues the pilot. However, the plane quickly lets lose a missile obliterating the chopper as it sinks. Sailor Lou tosses me a life preserver and helps haul me back in asking if I am Ok.

I pulled a sticky creature off my arm and tell him “I’m fine except the sea slugs.”

Anyway. It was at that point we ran aground. Leaving us now here, sinking, moaning as the sun comes up and the sharks swarm.