Hii!
I'm back for a few weeks! I have been super busy since opening a coffee shop, but I wanted to write something fun and different, and in a genre I don't normally write. I feel like this is perfect timing since it's October. I'm going to try and update Sunday nights, assuming my schedule stays the same.
As always, I don't own Divergent or it's recognizable characters.
This story takes place in a post-apocalyptic word. Most of the characters will be recognizable, Frank will probably die, and yes, Eric is the Captain. Thank you so much to Erin for editing, and I hope everyone is doing amazing!
On Friday, I get kidnapped.
It's the absolute worst possible day for this to happen, and to make things really bleak, it occurs on the one weekend where I actually have something going on. My plans with Landon were the only good thing about my week; I had agreed to meet him for drinks at one of the less seedy bars down by the beach, and he had looked thrilled. We'd known each other for long enough that this date was bound to happen. Landon was tall and handsome, charming, and occasionally funny, if not a bit boring. Like most in our small beach town, he spent his days running a seaside restaurant, telling anyone who'd listen stories of ghosts and pirates.
Landon was a big believer in the idea that our seas were swarming with pirates. He loved to talk about the captains and their crews, their dark ships - stories high, with flags decorated with skulls and bones, lurking in the water. He had a theory that the more skulls a flag had, the more ships they'd taken over. While he shucked oysters and boiled lobsters, he'd conjure up tales of sword fights and one-eyed men fighting one legged women, all for the chance at finding a lost island filled with treasure.
Most of the customers humored him. I thought the stories were stupid, but at least they were a way to pass the time.
The small town we lived in wasn't my idea of fun. Uneventful for half the year, and overwhelming for the other. Tourist season ran from March, when families would flood in and take over, until August. Once the sun quit burning so hot, the people vanished. Beachwood held absolutely no appeal when it was cold and gloomy, and only the locals remained. Stores shortened their hours, employees had a chance to sleep in, and we spent our days patiently waiting until the rush would return.
I found the quiet nice. On the foggier mornings, I'd slip down to the farmer's market with my father, buying things for our own restaurant. He often let me pick out fresh fish or vegetables, and sometimes, I'd sneak in desserts we hadn't tried before. I'd grown up as an absolute failure in his industry, having zero skill when it came to cooking. When I burnt one too many meals, my father politely moved me from assisting my brother with cooking, to the front of house.
It was awful.
Life as a hostess was mind-numbingly dull, especially once I graduated high school. I was routinely mistaken for being younger than I was, and often spoken down to by families who waited until the last minute to come for dinner. I longed for something more than taking names and the size of their parties, counting kid's menus and explaining that no, their children could not sit at the bar. I begged my father to let me work inland, wishing to do anything other than work in a restaurant. He always refused, claiming he needed my help, and pointing out that my brothers and sisters weren't old enough to work like I did. When things got really tense, he'd throw in how much my mother would have loved to see me working alongside him, and she'd be so proud of how far we'd come.
It was a dirty move.
My mother had passed away shortly after I turned three, and a few months later, my dad remarried. Eden was fine when I was little. Her long hair was pretty and always curled, and her clothes were much nicer than anything I'd ever seen before. She was pleasant and fun, willing to play and always willing to put me to bed, until she and my dad went on to have a handful of children, and I became just another person who needed her attention.
Forrest whined about her all the time, but I kept my mouth shut. I suddenly had siblings who looked nothing like Forrest and me. They were always demanding attention and never took no for an answer. By the time I was thirteen, things were beyond tense, and it split up the household.
Eden hated this, but mostly, she hated Forrest and me because we were a reminder of our mother. Our dark hair didn't blend in with the fair-haired children that followed us, and despite us staying out of her way, she grew to loathe the sight of us. She'd snap and insist I help around the house, around the restaurant, and with my brothers and sisters. She did her best to make sure I took care of everything at home, growing irritable when I couldn't finish her list of chores, and my schooling often fell to the wayside.
My father did his best to keep the peace. He insisted I focus on school, and he would occasionally step in, taking over whatever needed to be done, but it was never enough. Eden seemingly had him convinced I wasn't doing my part. Eventually, it became impossible to miss the weariness on his face, especially when I stood up for myself and refused to babysit when I wasn't at the restaurant.
Determined to get through a few more years, I sucked it up and tried to make the best of it. Since I had no other family in Beachwood, and no one in any far-off lands that I knew of, I decided I'd save everything for two years and then split in the middle of the night. I arranged a schedule that worked for me, giving myself some of my weekends away from wiping down menus and portioning out crayons. I spent most of my free time with Landon and his friends. I often pretended each night would bring about some good fortune; maybe he'd announce he wanted to leave Beachwood, and we'd sneak away from this town and never look back. We'd find adventure and excitement away from our families and start life anew somewhere. The most excitement I got was meeting his friends Chad and Chad Two, nearly identical in size and looks, while they drunkenly insulted Landon for dating someone who couldn't legally drink.
He ignored them.
We weren't dating, but Landon was the closest thing I had to a way out of here. I put up with Chad and Chad Two as best I could, figuring they'd eventually like me, even if I didn't find them funny. The last time I saw them, they mocked Landon more and more, growing braver with each beer. They went on and on about the ships they saw, out on the ocean, but just far enough from the shore to appear ghostlike. Chad snorted that Landon's dream had come true, that pirates were appearing in Beachwood, and he had better watch out. Chad Two snorted right along with him, spilling frothy beer down his shirt as he insisted they'd seen people on the ships, dressed entirely in black.
Landon did his best to pretend he wasn't paying attention.
In hindsight, he probably should have listened. He cut them off from the bar, told them to go home, and promised me this weekend would be fun. Our only real plan was to meet for drinks at Chad's cousin's bar –one I could get into, and maybe we'd go for a walk. Tourist season was starting to wind down, but the boardwalk was still crowded. I was looking forward to the bright lights, the sound of the ocean, and the people playing games and hanging out.
Of course, none of that happened.
Not knowing my fate, I dressed a little nicer than usual, picking out something that felt more suitable for summer. I threw a sweater on over my sundress, tossed on a pair of black and white shoes, and yelled goodbye to Eden. I wasn't even sure if she was home; our restaurant was open late tonight, and Eden had grudgingly agreed to stay later to cover while I was off. She'd announced that this was only because my father needed help, and she was paying for a babysitter for the night on top of the restaurant payroll. I felt a twinge of guilt when she glared at me, but it was my agreement with them, and I refused to give in.
I shoved the feelings aside. I made it to the boardwalk by seven, and the low roar of the ocean picked up. It was already packed. I weaved in and out of the crowd, greeting a few longtime residents, and a few still lingering visitors snapping pictures of the historical boardwalk buildings. I took a left at the split toward the pier, and when someone yelled my name, I turned in the direction of their voice, and ended up crashing right into the chest of someone.
"I'm so sorry!"
My gasp was lost in the noise of the night. The dinging of a game rang in my ears, the chatter of people yelling and cheering as some threw darts to pop balloons echoed, and the whirl of the ancient Ferris wheel creaked and groaned loud enough that I swear the ground shook. It dulled in comparison to my panic, mostly at embarrassing myself by not looking where I was going.
"I didn't see you," I blurted out, raising my stare to look at who I've run into. I fully expected it to be Chad or Chad Two, perhaps even Landon himself. Instead, I was met with the curious stare of a guy I didn't know. He was tall, with messy brown hair and brown eyes. He blinked at me, tilting his head as his expression changed, and the look on his face made my stomach drop.
He was dressed in all black.
His hair was a tangled mess of salt and sea, and his cheeks were burnt like he'd spent hours beneath the sun. He had an aura of wildness to him. It was clear he didn't live in Beachwood, nor did it look like he was staying long. His boots were heavy, thick leather with gold buckles, and his arms held the print of tattoos from exotic locations. Beneath the sleeves of his rolled-up jacket, a mermaid made of bones and blue hair sat on his forearm, and on the other, an octopus fighting a sea monster was tattooed in bold colors. A knife was tucked into his belt loop, another was in his boot, and his hands held the tell-tale sign of one too many fistfights.
I took a step back.
He was a pirate.
"Um.."
I stepped back even further, but it was an unwise move. I knocked into someone else, and when their arm wrapped around mine, I realized it was Landon. I exhaled in relief, until his grip tightened, pulling me toward him, but not out of protection. He held me closer so I couldn't leave, pinning me against his chest when I struggled.
"Sorry I'm late. I got stuck by the docks. I'm Landon. This is Everly. She can't cook, but she can clean or work in the kitchens. Unmarried, so no one will give a shit if she's gone. Her parents have dozens of kids."
His words floated over me, hanging in the damp air.
"I don't have long, so you'll have to let me know. He's got other kids, but she's up next." Landon kept talking, his fingers tightening until they burned. "I'm offering a fair price, given the season and who she is. I have a long list of satisfied clients. None of ever returned a crewmate, nor do I offer refunds. If you need references, that's on Four."
"How much?" The pirate's stare intensified, sticking on my hair and the horrified look on my face.
"What…" I tried to wrench away from him, but it proved impossible. "What are you doing! Let me go!"
"You're selling her?" The pirate steps forward, and he's exactly like Landon described. Tall and intimidating, and fearless as he eyes me up and down. "Why?"
"Listen, you know how many of you lowlifes come through here? If you aren't interested, move on. Tell Four I've got others interested. Crews are hard to find these days. He was upfront about needing more than he had."
"Four," the pirate repeated, a smile appearing at his lips. His expression turned amused, delighted even at the name. "You talked to Ol' Frank, huh? When did he say he'd be here?"
"Seven, sharp," Landon answered, glaring when I escaped his grasp. Before I could run, he grabbed me again, then glared at the few curious stares we were receiving, so they'd look away. "Look, her dad was the major supplier for crew labor until I took over for him. But the season is coming to a halt. The tourists drop by over half. If you need labor, she's the best you'll come across. She's been working since she was old enough to hold a broom."
"We don't need women to sweep the ships." The pirate wasn't impressed, and neither was I. It was even more obvious that Landon had done this before. I tried to work out how this was happening, but before I could speak, the pirate shook his head. "I don't know. She'd be the only girl on the ship unless you count Arlene. But I'm not sure how that would go over. Arlene's a pretty jealous asshole."
"Two thousand. I have other offers," Landon threw out, and my eyes widened.
"What the hell are you taking about? I'm not going with him! You're crazy!" I stared in horror as this sunk in, and it felt like a nightmare. "What do you mean my dad supplies crew labor? What are you talking about?"
"Two thousand five, actually," Landon ignored me. "She'll shut up after a while. She's desperate to get out of here. She might enjoy life at sea. That's my final offer. If you and Four aren't interested, move on. There's another crew coming through in a half hour."
"How tall is she?" The pirate smiled, appearing far more friendly than Landon. He stopped smiling when I tried to get away from Landon, and he glanced left and right. "Eric doesn't like his crew to be too short. He gets pissy when they have a hard time reaching the sails."
"Fuck your height requirements. You want her or not? I told you, she's eighteen. She can legally vanish without Hank reporting her missing." Landon shoved me forward, perhaps thinking I'd appear more enticing if I was tripping over my feet. "The others will have people looking for them. Her family won't care if she goes missing. Her stepmom will find it…helpful."
"You can't be serious," I panicked. I couldn't believe this was happening, I'd wanted to leave Beachwood forever, but not like this. This was a nightmare, and I focused on trying to wake myself up. "I'm not going with either of you!"
"I'll give you ten cents," the pirate grinned, but his posture was telling. "Come on, dude. That's shitty about the family, but it's not a selling point. She's gotta have some skills. How long have you been doing this?"
"Trust me. She can clean or do manual labor. Four promised at least two thousand, more if the person was young enough to last a few years. She'll be a great asset to your crew." Landon has the audacity to declare my only worth lie in my ability to clean the restaurant, and I decided I'd had enough.
I turned to glare at him, and when he smiled, I punched him as hard as I could in the face.
The pain was immediate.
I'd never fought anyone before, nor was I especially skilled at it. My hand throbbed red hot as I took off running. I could hear him howling, then screaming my name as I sprinted into the crowd, attempting to lose the both of them. My brain ran through a million thoughts, each one more ridiculous than the next. There was no way this could be happening. There was no way pirates were real, no way Landon was right, no way he was trying to sell me as part of a crew. I'd thought he'd liked me for who I was, and if this wasn't a nightmare, then he'd willingly hung around me to profit off a business transaction.
I wanted to scream.
I probably should have.
Instead, I ducked behind a cotton candy stand and around to the base of the Ferris Wheel. I came to a stop when I saw the ships looming in the distance, and to my horror, they weren't all that far away. In fact, they were awfully close. The appeared to be right the end of the pier, anchored in wait. I could make out a few people walking along the top deck, gesturing as they worked to lower the massive sails, dressed in dark clothing.
Landon was right.
They existed.
"Fuck…fuck…fuck."
I froze. The panic took over, making my limbs heavy and my head spin. I tried to think of where I could go, but my options were drastically dwindling. If what Landon said was true, my own father was supplying these pirates with crewmates for money, and my stepmother had probably suggested I be next. Landon was hoping to make a quick profit off me, and my only other friends were his friends. There were no officers around, no adult I could really trust, and no one who would likely even believe me if I told them what Landon had said.
I was trapped. Officially screwed, in more ways than one.
"Everly, wait! Hold on! We can talk about this!"
The voice of Landon jarred me back to reality. I turned to see him running at me, a tense expression all over his face. He pushed his way through a family in line to buy tickets to the Ferris Wheel, knocking a small child away from him. His determination was clear as day: he was going to find me, and if the first pirate didn't want to go through with the deal, another might.
"It's not what you think! You might like it! The captains are understanding!" Landon yelled, risking a few heads turning his direction. "Just…let's talk. I promise…you're taking this the wrong way. You don't want to stay here, anyway!"
"Fuck off." I ran again, but this time, my only option was the beach. My brain refused all logic, and rather than remind me that I'd likely have no way out, it told me to run as far away from him as I could.
So, I did.
I sprinted toward the row of wooden fences and hopped over. My foot tangled in the wire mesh meant to keep the animals out of the water, and I hit soft, damp sand. A few people watched with mild interest, but in the end, I was nothing more than someone playing a stupid game. I managed to get to my feet, and I ran until my lungs hurt. I made it a good distance before I couldn't hear him yelling anymore, and I made it to the end of the boardwalk, before his voice drifted back over to me. It was dulled by the roar of the ocean waves crashing against the shore and fizzling out, but loud enough that it sent a shiver up my spine.
"You're being ridiculous! Let me explain!" Unfortunately for me, Landon was pretty skilled at running on the beach. He was next to me within seconds, his stare furious as ever. "Look, the more you fight this, the worse it'll be. Just stop running. Frank's ships are reputable. He buys crew members all the time."
"Stay away from me," I answered, trying to focus on the red mark on his face and not being sold to a pirate crew "You can't do this. This isn't right. This isn't…"
I stopped talking when he tackled me, knocking me back into wet sand and a rush of water. I was immediately forced under, gagging on the salty taste and frantically trying to wipe away the burn of my eyes. I managed to resurface, but Landon had a better plan. He dragged me out a few feet, yanking me by the arm and forcing me beneath another wave. My struggle wasn't as intense this time. I couldn't catch my breath before the water hit a second time, and when he pulled me up, I was gasping.
"Agree to go, or I drown you. It doesn't matter to me. Maybe you shouldn't go. Maybe you aren't brave enough to do anything but seat tables." His insult was painful. This time, I was shoved into deeper water. The shore gave way, and when I couldn't reach the bottom, I floundered.
I eventually hit the ocean floor. When I could reach, I broke through the surface and screamed as loud as I could.
"Shut up. No one can hear you," Landon warned. He lunged for me, and this time, I could hear someone else yelling. I swam back a few feet, risking being tossed beneath another wave, or worse –into one of the large beams supporting the pier, but it was harder than usual.
My choice of clothing didn't make anything easy. The sweater turned heavy, pulling me downward, and my shoes felt like lead. Behind Landon, the pirate stood on the shore, watching with wide eyes.
"Everly, just…come on. Give up. You don't want to stay here. This is a way out. It's –"
Landon's words were lost when the wave came out of nowhere. It crashed around him, and he was knocked off balance, tossed aside like he weighed nothing. I would have found this comical, but I was shoved forward, and this time, my head slammed into the sand with a force strong enough that my eyes closed. My lungs burned at the onslaught of salt water, and my choking became weak. When I could breathe again, I blinked a few times, trying to focus my blurry vision, but I was too tired.
Keeping my eyes closed felt better, so much better, that I decided I wouldn't open them for a while.
"Hey, Jason! Come help me! She's still alive! I don't know where the guy went!"
"Fuck, dude! You said you were getting a snack!"
The voices were unfamiliar. They were kind, though. Clearly worried about me enough to wade into the water, despite the signs saying this area was off limits. I felt one hand take hold of my arm, and another pressing against my neck. Death had to be imminent, so I shook my head, and mumbled that I hoped it was quick.
It was.
Darkness pulled me down into its deepest depths, coaxing me into nothingness. I felt exhausted; my limbs were heavy, my eyes refused to open, and my breathing slowed enough that I was sure I was asleep. I wasn't waiting for anything except the panic to stop, the excruciating fear to die down, and knowledge that I would be safe from Landon to kick in.
When it did, it felt like warm water poured over me. Like someone gently scrubbing my hair, murmuring that I'd be just fine, and the gentle, careful detangling of my hair. It felt like a clean nightshirt, soft and warm, and pillows that smelled like cognac and sea air.
When I finally dragged my eyes open, I saw nothing familiar. Dark, wooden walls, books crammed into shelves, and tall windows that framed the wide expanse of the ocean, smooth and deep blue, and clear skies. The faint feeling of movement snuck up on me, forcing my eyes closed at the sensation, and the sounds of heavy bootsteps thudded over the floor.
When I open my eyes again, I heard someone roaring that Rylan was absolutely not allowed to kidnap anyone, ever again, and Eric would most certainly not appreciate his efforts, no matter how he worded them.
