The crate opened with a sickening 'crack', and the damp moss-covered wood lifted up from the light crank of the rusty crowbar.
Nathan Drake, treasure hunter and occasional world-saver, turned away from the appalling look of the crate's content and stepped away from the box dizzily. A decaying skeleton, badly mummified, and a skeleton of what seemed to be a dog lied inside the crate. The skeleton's head was facing him, and it seemed to have smiled at Drake for a moment's notice.
"Hi there, thanks for letting the smell out," it seemed to want to say.
It was just three days ago when the crate was found afloat in the waters where Nate and Sully were fishing. The sea-plane, Sully's good old working plane, floated on the sea, acting as a platform for the two to fish. It was easy to spot the crate, considering the point that Sully was sitting high on top of the roof with a long fishing rod dangling over the edge into the water.
"Grab the crate, Nate! There might be treasure inside!" Sully shouted from the top, quickly standing up in clear anticipation of the possibility of treasure washing up on his plane. The Caribbean Sea didn't really give the two any good balance with all the small waves rippling through the plane, rocking it constantly as if it was a seasickness simulator.
Nathan Drake grabbed hold of the post as he balanced himself carefully on the pontoon, throwing back the fishing rod into the cabin behind him. "Hurry up, Nate, or it's gonna drift away!" Sully shouted again, now standing right above Drake on the wings of the plane.
"Alright! Alright! Hold your horses!" Nate yelled back, swaying unstably on the platform, his face a mixture of green seasickness and annoyance. He leaned out from the side of the plane, his one hand holding the post and the other reaching out for the crate.
"Got it!"
Nate shouted in glee when his hand caught on a good grip on the crate's rough edges. Sully climbed back into the cabin as Nate pulled in the wet crate with a heaving effort from his worn out physique. "Damn it, Sully, if I knew that I'd come out all the way to the Caribbean just to get a sun-tan and be your fishing line..." Sully just laughed. His mind was too happy with images of treasure piling up in his memory drive.
It has been two hours since the two had fished out in the open sea, and frankly, they weren't getting any fish.
"Aw, brighten up, kid. We might be onto something here!" Sully said, the sound of excitement and thrill building up fast in his voice as he walked over with a crowbar in hand. Victor Sullivan, white-haired, grinning in a Hawaiian shirt and a cigar in his mouth, looked ten years younger as he excitingly plunged the crowbar into the crate's lid and cranked it open without any effort.
The wooden lid creaked and screamed out a long squeak as its nails were pried apart from the box. Soon enough, a legion of months-long stench wafted out into the cabin and marched across every available surface to spread its rotten smell. The lid creaked again as if it was laughing in delight.
Nate was the first to groan in disgust and cover his mouth while Sully reacted a little less fast. Soon enough though, the man did the same, but he leaned over the crate's content and peered in with thoughtful eyes instead of turning away.
"Sully, are you kidding me? Step away from that thing!" Nate mumbled from behind his hand, still appalled by the skeleton and stench. The rot was apparent, and the fishing trip was just about like that – rotten.
Sully was one to call him up for a good day of fishing after a weeks' worth of work just three days ago. He called it a 'holiday' between pals; free of people, bars, beer and land. Just them and Mother Nature – them and the sea.
Sully finally stepped away and coughed loudly.
"Just us and Mother Nature, alright."
He waved his hand around the air, unsuccessfully trying to get the stench out of the cabin. "Now that's the work of mother-goddamn-nature," Sully said. "Come on, Nate, we gotta get this thing off of my plane before it stinks up the whole cabin!"
Sully pushed the crate with all his might, pushing it towards the door where he planned to drop it back out into the sea. It didn't even edge ten inches before Nate stepped in and pushed it back into the cabin, surprising Sully as a drop of stinking water splashed onto his shirt from the box.
"Hold on a second, Sully!" Nate said, eyes scanning through the crate's contents as if there was nothing decaying in there.
The plane suddenly rocked violently from the unexpected wave washing under it with one big motion. Both the men were flung effortlessly to the floor, and the crate quickly slid to the side and tipped itself on the edge of the door, almost falling if it weren't for Nate, who had gotten up just as soon as he fell to grab hold of it again. Another wave hit the plane's bottom and sent the whole thing swaying to its side again. The crate stubbornly tried to fall over, but Nate kept still, struggling to pull the thing back in. Sully finally got up and managed to gain balance by leaning his hands on the cabin walls and ceiling.
"Nate, let go of that box already!" he shouted.
"You're the one who wanted it in the first place! Argh!" Nate yelled as he arched his back, pulling back the crate that was clearly falling over. Nate was only so strong after all, fighting against the teetering platform and opposing gravity. A loud thunder cracked from outside, and the plane rocked back the opposite way with the wave, sending a splash of seawater into the cabin and onto the crate. Nate was almost crushed by the huge box sliding back, but he reflexively moved aside in time. Sully caught him before he fell to his butt.
"Damnit," Sully cussed, looking out of the door. "A storm's coming. Let the corpse rest in peace, kid. We're outta here," he said.
Nate responded by a lightning-quick action; he bolted forward despite the unstable platform, leaned into the box (while holding his breath), grabbed something from inside it, and pulled himself away. The crate lurched forward again as the plane tipped sideways, and it immediately slid out of the cabin through the door and into the water with a loud 'splash'. The pieces of the corpse, green and oozing, were left scattered on the cabin floor thanks to the waves of water splashing into the crate and cabin not a minute before.
"Buckle up, Nate, it's gonna be one hell of a ride!" Sully said, putting on his own seatbelt on the pilot's seat. Nate followed suit, and soon, the seaplane darted out of the waters of the Caribbean and into the sky, flying out of the storm just in time before it really struck home with full intensity.
...
Back on shore somewhere in the coast of some Caribbean island, Sully's seaplane was tied safely to the docks and secured from the turbulent waves that kept crashing onto the shores. The woman on the side of the plane didn't seem as happy and smiling as she was before, thanks to the rain falling down on her face like rolling tears.
In the nearby bar further inland, Sully and Nate sat cold but dry on the stools by the counter, trying to keep warm with the not-so-hot coffee served by the locals.
"I really wish we were back in Colorado now. At least I have good coffee there." Nate grumbled, swirling his cup as if it could make the drink any better.
"Hey, I didn't bring us here to drink in a bar. I checked the weather channel; it was supposed to be sunny all week long!" Sully said in defense. "Must be one of those freak-hurricanes or storms from the ocean. Anyways, what have you got there?" He pointed at Nate's pocket, referring to the item he pulled out of the crate before.
"Oh, this?" Nate took out a medium-sized golden bracelet covered in damp moss and hard dirt sticking on it. He wiped the thing slowly with an equally damp napkin from the bar. The bracelet gradually started to show its shine.
"Wow, kid. That thing might make it all almost worth it!" Sully said in utter joyful surprise.
"What does that have to mean?" Nate asked, still cleaning the bracelet, now scraping off the dirt with his pocket knife.
"Kid, that box o' corpses filled up my whole cabin with rotten flesh and smell. It's gonna take me weeks to clean that up!" Sully replied.
Nate laughed, and kept his knife back into his pocket. The bracelet now shined brightly in the dim lighting, clearly showing its smooth golden surface. The bartender walked in, and Nate hurriedly placed the bracelet in his pocket again.
"Coffee?" the bartender asked in his native dialect. Both men shook their head.
"You call this coffee? I wonder what your water tastes like." Sully complained. The bartender didn't seem to really understand, and went away again.
Nate took out the bracelet and gave it to Sully.
"I hope he didn't see this," Nate whispered.
"Nah," Sully said, examining the thing carefully with the strict precision of his pair of well-trained and experienced eyes. "Gold alright," he nodded. "But there's nothing to it! I mean, look at it, Nate," he handed the bracelet to Drake. "It has nothing written or carved on it. Just a plain gold bracelet. Did you say the corpse was wearing it?"
"Which corpse?" Nate gleefully asked.
"Whaddaya mean which corpse?" Sully asked back, a little annoyed by the question. He hated waiting for answers when it came to gold and treasures.
"Sully, I found the bracelet on the dog, not the man. The dog, Sully!" Nate said, his voice sounding a little amused.
"Well, that's a little...weird." Sully looked at his coffee, contemplated on drinking it, and firmly decided not to.
The bartender came again, with a transparent bottle in his hand now, and walked towards the two. He placed two small glasses in front of them and poured each of them the drink from the mysterious bottle.
"What's this?" Sully asked. The bartender smiled, hugged himself and put his lips together.
"Brrrrrrr..." he said, implying them that it was cold outside. Then he pointed at the drink. The thunder struck again, and they were reminded of the storm that was happening outside. They weren't going anywhere with that kind of weather. Sully had even heard once that a palm tree can be uprooted in that kind of rain.
"Ah, what the hell," Nate shrugged.
"Hold on a second, Nate -" Sully failed to stop his friend as Nate gulped down the drink in one go. "Kid?"
One second later, Nate fell limp on the counter and exhaled loudly in utter shock from the drink.
"Damnit, Nate, I shoulda warned you," Sully said to himself. He eyed the drink, and took it in himself, and then he slammed the glass down hard and shook his head. "Whoa! What the hell did they put in this thing?" The bartender asked him if he wanted another round. Sully grinned and nodded.
After another drink, he shook Nate's shoulder, looking for any signs of life. "You never were the drinking type, eh. This thing could kickstart a corpse's heart." he laughed out loud.
The rain kept pounding on the small bar, and the wind was howling much louder than before. It wasn't till an hour later when Nate woke up from his slumber, and found Sully to be dead asleep beside him, his cigar extinguished on the table ashtray, and the two glasses missing. Nate sat upright, held his head in slight pain, and moved his hand to his pocket…then to the other one. And he stopped breathing for a second.
"Shit!"
Sully jumped up in surprise from the sudden scream from Drake, almost falling off the stool, though he didn't, thanks to similar experiences before.
"What the hell, Nate?" he asked.
"The bracelet. The bracelet, Sully, where is it?"