Well, that took a long time. Sorry about that.
Review replies;
Bearhuggs00: Thanks, I'll try to work on that in future.
SOLmaster: All I can say is watch this space. :) Thanks for reading!
Graystorm: Copy that, I'll work on it. Thanks for reviewing. :D
TweenisodeOrange: Yeah, logic is for squares. :D Like pants. XD Thanks for the review!
Third Kind: Rule of Funny is the greatest rule of them all! ^^ Thanks very much!
Chapter Five: The Great Sea Plain
"Are we there yet?"
"Patrick, don't start this…"
"Are we there yet?"
"Patrick…"
"Are we there yet?"
"Patrick…"
They had been walking all morning. A relentless sun beat down on the endless plain, and the long, dry kelp scratched their legs. There was not a cloud in the sky. Save for a distant mountain range far to the south, all that could be seen was the plains.
"Are we there yet?"
Spongebob grabbed onto Sandy's tail in a futile attempt to prevent the squirrel from strangling Patrick. Pulled forward in her lunge, he was thrown face-first into the dust.
Day one's going pretty well, he thought to himself.
He pushed himself off the ground, grabbing a rock for support. It was a bit dry for a rock, he thought, and felt kind of hollow and…
Oh dear Neptune it's a skull.
Spongebob screamed and leapt away from the skull, attracting the attention of his friends.
Sandy let go of Patrick and came over, letting the starfish drop unceremoniously into the dirt. She picked up the skull, looking it over.
"Do you have to look at that?" asked Spongebob, shaking.
"Looks like an anchovy," mused Sandy, "Probably died a long time ago. Guess we ain't the first ones to try this."
She turned it over to look at the back.
"Wait a minute," she noted, "Someone carved a message in this."
"Eeeww!" exclaimed Spongebob, wincing.
Sandy ignored it, and read the carving aloud.
"Alexander Johnson stopped here, 1959," she read, "Who the heck wrote this?"
"His handwriting is terrible," said Patrick, leaning over Sandy's shoulder.
Sandy rolled her eyes and put down the skull.
"Somethin' ain't right about this," she thought aloud, "C'mon, let's keep going. See if we can't find someone to explain this."
Spongebob walked quickly away from the skull, shuddering as he tried to rid himself of the mental image.
The siding was dusty and decrepit. A single rail-bus was sitting at the end of it, it's once vibrant green paint nearly completely peeled off. By the line, an old man sat on a rocking chair outside his corrugated iron hut, snoring loudly.
It was midday when the group found him.
"A train?" mused Spongebob, "What's that doing here?"
"Let's ask that guy!" exclaimed Patrick, running over to the old man.
"Wait, maybe we shouldn't…"
Patrick ignored Spongebob and began to shake the old man.
"Eh! What! Who! Oh, you better not be Nat…"
The old man looked up at Patrick and sighed.
"Eh, you're not Nat-si's," he wheezed, "Whaddaya want, whippersnapper?"
"What's with the train?" asked Sandy.
"Wha? That thing?" quizzed the old man, "Geeeh, that's just my old tin hare. I use it to go into the town."
"What town?" asked Spongebob, looking at the map, "There's no town on the map."
"Lemme guess, you're goin' to Poseidon," nodded the old man. "Well, a lot a fellers don't make it there, but they can't make it back neither. So they set up little villages on the road."
"So they can help other people making the trip?" guessed Sandy.
"Naaah, they just want their tourist dollars, lassie," snapped the old man.
"Of course," she deadpanned.
"If ya wanna head that way, I'm headin' into town in a few minutes," rasped the old man, "Might wanna tag along, cut a few hours off your trip. Free o' charge, I'm feelin' generous today."
"Well, that's mighty thoughtful of you," replied Sandy, "How do we know this ain't a trick?"
"Are ya commernists?" demanded the old man.
"…no," replied Spongebob, confused.
"Well then I got nothin' against ya," nodded the old man, "Hop in, I'll get her started."
The rail-bus was slow, bumpy and uncomfortable, but it was faster then walking and it went the right way. Spongebob was sitting on one of the wooden seats, watching the sun go down outside.
It had already been a day since they'd left Bikini Bottom. For one day, the citizens of his hometown had been frozen, incarcerated in a small bottle that could probably be smashed at any time. Everything he'd ever known and loved depended on him now – it was a bit daunting, to say the least.
Still, he couldn't help but feel excited about the trip. If they could make it to Poseidon, then they'd be the first mortals ever the make the trip. That, he thought, would be pretty cool.
He felt a jolt as the rail-bus began to slow down.
"Right, whippersnappers!" exclaimed the old man, looking back from the driver's seat, "You are now enterin' the town o' Dark Gulch."
"Ooh, sounds inviting!" grinned Patrick.
Spongebob looked out the window. The 'town' they had entered was little more then a few wooden and corrugated iron shacks, eerily lit by torches and campfires. There was no-one in sight.
"Looks like all the townsfolk are at the market," noted the old man, "Certain kinds o' salesmen'll make a killin' here!"
"What kind of salesmen?" demanded Sandy.
Suddenly, the rail-bus ground to a halt. The old man got up and hobbled to the door.
They had stopped at a small, wooden railway platform. Three men were standing by the door, all of them in tattered coats and tall hats. Their leader was at the front, wearing a battered top hat and a very raggedy three-piece suit. All of them carried guns.
"What you got, old man?" demanded the leader.
"I got goods," replied the old man, "How much do you wanna pay?"
"$150 each for those two," replied the leader, grinning nastily, "And $300 for the dame."
"Wait, what?" demanded Sandy, "You ain't…"
"Done deal," grinned the old man, holding out several forlorn looking bills, "Have fun on the market, boys."
"I'll try to make 'em presentable for potential customers," nodded the leader, taking his money, "As for you fellers, you are now property of Bill Jackson. Now why don't y'all sleep on that?"
Spongebob felt something blunt and heavy hit the back of his head, and then he knew nothing.
Well, let that be a lesson to you, kids. Hitchhiking is dangerous and old men with rail-busses should never be trusted.