CHAPTER ONE

GEORGE OF THE STRAIT

This very night, the night of the debacle with his parents and a brief visit to Thrift Stop, George Burnstead was with his friends when they opened the little golden music box he bought from Thrift Stop as a present for Anne. When she opened it, they were shocked by the bright light that sucked them in with it, and the box came with them too. The light that sucked them all in, but the light in this new world, dropped George facefirst into a gulf of a tiny, distant archipelago, deep and under a dark shadow beneath the inky sky, frogs croaking and crickets chirping in the distance. George climbed out of the water and began looking for his friends but they were nowhere to be found.

After a week of looking alone though, as he thought he shouldn't ask strangers for help, came with no luck. During that time, he lost his shoes and socks, yet still wore his school outfit and capris. With all the rotten luck of searching without asking the locals, he became increasingly anxious, paranoid, and terrified.

In this archipelago called Salamand, inhabited by Salamanders, these lands were seemingly reminiscent of specific Earth locations like Hawaii, except it was completely independent but was a port archipelago and got many things imported from other parts of this peculiar planet, with many little buildings made of wood in remote places, many forests, tall grasses, and dark green hills.

Although he was worried about his friends, losing them only this moment he ended up here, he knew he shouldn't get caught. Otherwise, before he knew it, he would be captured, or worse, killed. Fortunately, back on Earth, taking his afternoon walks throughout the neighborhood kept him going because nobody tried ganging up on him back home except his parents, that must mean nobody would dare try that here because he supposed no one in this world had seen humans.

He had been wandering through the woods and twisting rivers of these islands, foraging for mushrooms and berries to stay nourished, making sure they weren't poison, and praying that the Salamanders that inhabited this place wouldn't see him in the tall grass on their hunting trips. He couldn't get cell reception anywhere on his phone and had no one to call for help.

This very night, he had been eating a few berries he picked and stashed in his pockets. At this moment, it was nearly midnight, so he thought that meant he could finally catch a break from trying to find another hiding place. Without warning, however, he heard the sound of a foghorn in the distance as he nibbled his berries, and prayed that the Salamanders in their overwater bungalows were still fast asleep. George crept through the tall grass, making for a strait nearby, and further out into the water, what looked like a ship sailing downstream met his eye.

At this sight, his heart gave a leap. He remembered giving a thought about joining the United States Navy back on Earth and supposed that whoever on board could be this world's equivalent to that, so without hesitation or thought for his own safety, he took off his jacket and shirt, leaving him only in his capris, rose from the grass, silently waded into the water, and began to swim in the direction the ship was heading, pausing now and then to come up for air and make sure he was keeping up.

After what felt like an eternity, he reached the ship and came up for air, looking for something on the wooden hull to climb up with, and grabbed on, wondering how ships this well made and fit so tightly like this were able to float without sinking, stopping now and then to listen, and halfway up, heard shouts from above, and stopped, hoping they wouldn't see him climbing up, but just as he finally reached the deck, climbed over the railing, and collapsed, catching his breath, the voices from the deck came back again.

"A stowaway!" shouted one of the sailors on the ship, who stood before George with several salamanders of numerous colors, male and female, young and old, donned in clothes a Navy sea person or what a pirate might wear, running up towards him, armed with short spears, swords, and daggers, and they vigorously pointed them at him. George gasped suddenly, his chest still heaving from all that swimming, "Wait!" he cried, stretching an arm out in defense and clutching the railing behind for support with his other hand. "Please, wait! I'm not what you'd think I am!" He did not believe that they would believe his words. "You lie! You climbed up to eat us!" shouted one of the salamanders, brandishing his dagger haphazardly. "Do I look like the kind of person who would eat a frog?!" George retorted, an affronted look visible on his face. "I couldn't do that, the same way you couldn't eat a human like me!" "You lie!" snapped the orange salamander, still clutching his dagger.

"Stand down! All of you!" A voice rang out from behind the mob. It belonged to a female salamander, who stepped out of the main cabin and split the mob up so she would take a look at George closely. This salamander was a slim purple one with small, sharp eyes, blue-toned black hair in a bob cut with flips at the front, and wore a black and white visorless sailor cap with a black ribbon at the back and a black, white, and purple cockade pinned on the front, as well as the words "SALAMAND" translated into some funny language George had yet to understand, and also wore a white cropped shirt with thick blue stripes, a cropped blue sailor's jacket with black and white accents, blue capris and a black and white belt. She had a severe-looking face, and George did the best he could to stand back up, his teeth chattered from the cold water and air, and he could still feel his arms and legs from all that swimming and climbing up the ship. She looked at his hairless arms, legs, bare chest, back, and mullet, all from different angles with a mix of apprehensiveness and a little bright interest.

"What are you called?" she finally spoke, breaking the tension. "I'm... a human," he replied nervously, trying to brush the sweat and droplets of water off of his arms and shoulders, and out of his hair, "and my name is George Burnstead. What is your name, if I may ask?"

The purple salamander stopped dead but collected herself, her face and tone still stern. "I am Raquel, commander of this crew, the Salamand Navy." As she stepped a couple of feet back, George still eyed her nervously. "What are you doing on my ship, and how did you come around here?" she asked him strenuously.

George took a deep breath as he began to find his voice. "Well, I'm not from around here. I found this box that I read about in a book, and I bought it as a present for a friend, she opened it, and this bright light appeared, and here I am, drifting aimlessly for a week, wondering where my friends are," he chuckled uneasily.

As he spoke, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pit of crisp but wrinkled paper, showing a picture of him back on Earth in his school uniform, taking a selfie with Anne, Marcy, and Sasha, all three in their uniforms as well, George smiled, showing his teeth and winking in the picture as he held up the phone that took it, Marcy winked too, standing behind him, Anne and Sasha stood straight as they smiled too, Anne had her fists on her hips and Sasha with her jean jacket and her hands behind her back. George continued as he looked up from his picture with sadness in his eyes. "I'm a long way from home..." he began, "but it doesn't feel like home anymore. I saw your ship from far away, and for some reason, I thought of joining your crew."

"You? Join us?" a large, orange salamander laughed haughtily. "What would something like you do in our ranks? Stick barnacles to our hull?" he slapped his knee as he chortled at his joke. "Shut up, Smoker!" shouted another, a young, stocky red one. "Quiet, you two," snapped Raquel as they heard slow steps coming closer.

"What new bother is this?" This salamander that spoke up over the commotion had many gray scales, a much paler complexion within his purple skin, and thin gray hair under a bicorn cap and old-timey uniform gradually walked up to Raquel, his gold-plated wood walking stick firmly held in his hand.

"Grandpa-!" Raquel began but cleared her throat quickly and stood at attention, "I mean, Commodore," she began, but the old salamander put a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she relaxed her legs a bit, standing casually as she continued to address him, "This human washed up on our ship and insists on joining our crew. Says he's looking for his friends." The old salamander grunted and nodded, seemingly interested as she continued, "Should he join the ranks, we will need to know more about him, and his friends that he seeks."

"Of course, dear." the old Salamander said, patting her shoulder steadily and walking up to the boy, who leaned forward a bit to meet his height, he was slightly shorter than George. "So, can I stay with you all?" he piped, "If you help me, I might as well try and help you. I recall thinking about joining the Navy back where I'm from and I thought all you guys would this world's equivalent."

"Oh?" The commodore raised his eyebrows but nodded slightly. "Well, you seem to have guts, boy, I'll give you that." The Scottish human boy's eyes widened at the compliment that not even his parents would give him, hardly finding the words to give back to the Commodore in return. "Oh! Uh, th-thank you, Commodore." he stammered, managing to smile slightly.

"Please, call me Redding, human." said the Commodore silkily, "I'll be watching you." George nodded instinctively. "Got it. I won't let you down, but I should let you know that my name's George Burnstead... okay, Commodore, err... Redding?" he grinned nervously upon mixing the two titles together.

"So, he can stay, Grandpa?" Raquel piped, glancing back at George with a kind of bright interest. "He can stay, yes," Redding replied, earning a smile of pride from Raquel. "But he better start by telling us soon about himself, and his friends." Upon hearing those words, George's grin faded, and he looked aside, rubbing the back of his head with his fingertips. He turned around, rested his arms on the rails, and gazed out into the night sky, the wind blowing softly through his hair and on his face. "Marcy... Anne... Sasha... please..." he whispered, his voice barely above the breeze. "Please be all right... wherever you are..." He bowed his head and sighed, relieved to have found himself a place for now, but his resolve to get back with his friends remained his priority, along with a new one, to prove himself worthy among these salamanders.

Whew! I've been adamant about writing this chapter for months since I finished the prologue, and I had been struggling to decide which character's introduction in the area to start with first, Anne, or George. Anyway, I hope you like this one, and I'll try to get on with the next chapter sometime soon.