“Mistah’ Explorer—he dead.”
I stood, staring blankly ahead into the mists over the rock ledge that led into the sky and eventually down to the sea. I looked at that soldier who announced his death briefly before turning back to watching the mists. He walked away. I could see in my peripheral vision the smog rising from the mess of twisted steel that was the
455, and by it was a ring of soldiers and adventurers, saluting someone—the Explorer.
Most of our khaki military jackets were tattered, and ripped, and bloodstained. My dark grey suit and trench coat were, luckily, in better condition than most clothes; they were slit in a few places, and the trench coat had a few black stains on the sides, but they were still wearable.
“How many alive?”
“We counted a total of 97 alive, sir. 81 of your company. The rest were with the Explorer.”
“Hmm. We only lost 69—less than half—which is miraculous. And supplies?”
“We’ve salvaged four ammunition crates, sir. There are also spare cartridges scattered around the wreck. The men have been around gathering ‘em for personal use. But we only have food for a week-and-a-half, and that’s with conservative rationing. We’ll need to forage soon, if we want to survive.”
“And radios?”
“
455’s is dead. Our only engineer alive said it’s fried, unsalvageable. We’re on our own for now. He said he could try and put together something, but not for a while, sir.”
“Shit. Well it seems food and water are our biggest priorities. Have sixty men ready, sergeant. We march in ten minutes.”
“Yes sir.”
~ • ~
“My Lord, there is a sandbar ahead. But we spotted large winged creatures prowling in the sand. They look like dragons, like those in fairy tales.”
I looked ahead and lurking on the sands were indeed winged serpents just like those Beowulf slew. That there was a sea on the floating island suggested that the island was probably continent sized—I was seeing a New World—and I felt the vicarious awe of Columbus and Magellan.
“Have the men fan out, into the trees, and be as silent. My division will be first to fire. Everyone will follow suit. We’re going to take down those things and secure that beach.”
Oh how Odysseus must have felt, to impale Polyphêmos, wretched and deadly, but a creature of the gods. It was my duty to defend these men, and to see them safe with their families again. We fired.
I heard that familiar burst of rifles. On the sandbar, the green, the blue, and the dark purple dragons shuddered—I saw blood jetting out of each of them—but did not collapse yet. I also saw another being, humanoid, with wings protruding from its shoulders. We sent another volley came, and the dragons and that figure crumpled into the sand. There were large blotches of red stained ground. We had sent them to the Styx.
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