“They could’ve at least given us a thicker jacket,” Sarah whined, wrapping her hands around her as a shield from the biting chill of the night.
“It’s a puffer,” Camden remarked. “I think this is the thickest they have,”
“Yeah, but look at Mack,” Sarah hissed, gesturing at the man up front. He wore a thick, black jacket that reached his ankles.
Mack, the big friendly man with a bushy white beard and a tiny steamboat, is who the N.S.C.A hired to bring Camden and Sarah to the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Sweet as he is, he has already asked too many questions. What could Camden and Sarah tell him: Hi, we’re spies and we were sent to infiltrate a weapons exchange!
No.
Mack is a civilian, and civilians can’t know about N.S.C.A. or its existence. So, Camden and Sarah had to lie. They made up some mumbled story about being commercial divers and doing a dive for charity. Mack had told them the idea was sweet and eagerly let them on his boat.
Hours passed, and the two were still on the boat. The glittering stars reflected against the black ocean, but it wasn’t as calming as it should have been. Sarah was restless, tossing and turning on the boat’s tiny wooden bench. Camden, however, might have been able to enjoy the quiet if the seat didn’t squeak and groan with Sarah’s every movement. Camden glanced at her before quietly sliding his backpack off. He opened it and out came a sleek, manila folder; a few pages peeked out of the corner.
Camden nudged Sarah’s shoulder just as she got somewhat comfortable and pointed at the manila folder. She groaned and sat up while Camden laid the folder and its contents out on the nearby bench.
There were only five pieces of paper in the folder. A black and white photo of a shipping yard, a mugshot of a gangly man, and three pages of notes sent by the agency to inform the duo about their mission.
‘ELABORATE ARMS?, CRIMINALS FROM AROUND THE WORLD, CAUTION IS ADVISED’ were just some of the titles that caught Camden’s and Sarah’s eyes.
They sat in silence for a few moments until an ear-piercing boat horn rang through the air. Camden shoved the folder in his bag and snapped it shut. He started to frantically look around for the noise’s origin. There in the distance, he saw it.
It was a combat boat. Its metallic hull sliced through the water like a knife to butter. Even the engine seemed to growl as it went along. In all the boat’s steel glory, it was armed to a T; machine guns lined the top of the ship, and the duo could see the faint indication of torpedo ports below the salty waves. The captain stood at the helm of the ship with a dagger strapped to his side. He was pale and lanky, with icy blue eyes and a sharp scowl.
Both Camden and Sarah got a bad feeling in their stomachs and rushed to a secluded corner of the boat where they couldn’t be seen.
Without a word, Sarah reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a grappling gun. She crouched to the ground, leaning on her knee as she pointed the gun at something. Camden looked at her with panic.
“What are you doing?” he whispered.
She cut her eyes at him.
“What do you think I’m doing?” she snapped.
Camden tilted his head and shrugged.
“I’m grappling to the combat boat!” she whisper-yelled.
The jerk of the boat stopping made Sarah jump, causing her to frantically shoot her grappling gun. It landed on the very edge of the combat boat, crashing against the curved ledge. With the grappling hook secure, Sarah crept toward the edge of Mack’s steamboat and across the rope, making sure to stay out of the captain’s sight. Camden cautiously trailed behind her.
Soon enough, the duo had reached the ledge of the combat boat. They hoisted themselves over the ledge and fell onto the boat’s aft deck. A thump echoed as Sarah and Camden landed, making the two wince. They shuffled over to some wooden crates and sat there. As they settled into their hiding place, they caught bits of the conversation between the man and Mack.
“What are you doing out here?” Mack asked.
“Business,” the captain answered hesitantly.
“That’s nice,” Mack answered, “I have to drop off some divers, so I hope you have a good night!”
The captain nodded and they both went back to their respective ships. Now all Camden and Sarah had to do was stay silent and wait.
Half an hour later, the boat docked at a tiny island with a lighthouse sitting on top of it. It stood tall and stark against the night sky.
“Woah,” Sarah whispered.
The captain stood up from his spot at the helm and started walking towards the dock in lazy, slow steps. He leaned forward and picked up the thick rope sitting on the deck. He examined it for a minute before wrapping the rope around a rail on the dock.
Camden and Sarah had peeked their heads out from around the boxes they were hiding behind, silently watching the man. He began to walk towards them, and Camden and Sarah hurriedly ducked back down. Still, the captain walked right past them.
They crept behind the man and followed him inside to a large, but frankly shabby looking, room. It was boxy with paper-white walls and large windows that showed the blackened sea and starry night sky outside. A metal platform sat just under the windows.
It was dimly lit, and cobwebs clung to corners. Shockingly, though, dozens of men in sharp black suits were sprinkled throughout the room. There were some on the floor muttering to each other while others lugged in massive wooden crates.
“There’s 30 men,” Sarah whispered.
“33,” Camden responded, pointing to a small group of men in the back.
Sarah was about to respond when a sharp “click” echoed into the room.
The men in the room instantly quieted and turned to face the figure walking into the room. It was a massive man with broad shoulders and a boxy frame. Despite his size, he sleekly strolled into the room in a white suit. His brown dress shoes clicking against the floor in a slow, eerie rhythm. Click Click Click.
Sarah pulled out her small black camera and pressed the little silver capture button to snap a picture.
“Gentlemen,” the man boomed, “Thank you for joining me tonight!”
Quiet applause came from the crowd.
“After months of research and experimentation, we have finally made a breakthrough,” the man clasped his hands with delight. “Thanks to our benefactors, we now have an unlimited supply of Chromasite!”
As if on cue, a small cart with a crate on it was wheeled in. With a grand gesture, the man ripped the top off. His girthy arms jiggled from the action.
Inside it was a small gun that looked awfully homemade. A lightbulb jutted out of the top with a steel cage surrounding its frame.
Sarah took another picture.
A stone, what they called Chromasite, sat there on top of the gun, right next to the bulb, glowing softly. The small stone was the color of milk; each of its edges seemed jagged and sharp. But the eeriest part was the light. It was bathed in a pulsating, pale light. It was alluring in its intensity.
“What is that?” Sarah questioned.
Even Camden leaned forward to see, pulling out a wrist scanner.
He held out his wrist to scan the stone, but he watched in horror as zero results appeared a minute later.
Camden’s brows knit together in a scowl. Sarah’s face twisted in a confused look.
The man pointed the gun at a presumably empty crate and fired it.
It shattered into pieces and scattered across the room like scurrying mice. The man let out a gasp, like a baby amused by their new toy. Loud cheers and whistles escaped from the men watching.
Still, Camden and Sarah hadn’t moved a muscle. They sat in shock, their eyes glued to the shrapnel. The scene replayed in their minds endlessly.
With a piercing bang, the gun was fired and a blinding bullet shot out. It rushed through the air, glittering in the dim room. It was unnatural how fast it could cut through the room; faster than the presumed speed of light.
Sarah turned to Camden, her hazelnut eyes wide.
“Where on earth could they have gotten something that can travel that fast?” she hissed.
Camden turned to her, looking Sarah in the eye.
“I don’t think it even came from Earth.”
