WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ The Little Prince in the Ossuary

Chapter 132

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Angel Island (2)

Their destination was another pier on the north side of the base. Following the road that curved along the coast, the vehicle glided north. Small beaches slipped past the window. Red buoys rose and fell with the waves.

So they laid naval mines.

Gyeoul guessed why they were not departing from the southern pier.

'The routes over there must be a mess. Probably like a city that grew with no plan.'

A giant city where every kind of ship had dropped anchor in chaos. Streets that shifted and swayed in real time. There was no way the paths between them could be normal.

The north edge of the base was sealed by a single long wall, built by stacking containers. In the deepening dark, layers of rusted brand marks gave off an apocalyptic feel. Soldiers patrolled on top. No lights, no railings, and dangerously exposed.

Gyeoul tilted his head and lowered his night vision for a moment.

As expected. The entire wall was lit with light outside the visible spectrum.

"That is unexpected. I thought we would be taking a helicopter here."

Joanna voiced her doubt. Going straight to the CIA outpost was impossible. Still, riding one as far as Angel Island should have been fine. So why get on a boat again? Ensign Barker answered.

"Ah, I heard that was the original plan. Not possible now, though."

"Why not?"

"They overworked them hauling containers, so now they are basically scrap metal. Maintenance gave up a while ago. They said even part-swapping hit its limit. What was it they said... getting on one now is like betting your life on luck? Then we forced them to fly during the typhoon, so now they are done for."

"Why the typhoon...?"

"The wall collapsed. We went on emergency status. We were lucky nobody died in a crash."

"Ah."

Joanna nodded. San Francisco had always been a city hit hard by wind and flood damage.

One of those helicopters sat near this pier too. The blades drooped quietly. At a glance it looked fine. But the fact that they parked it this close to the sea meant they were done maintaining it.

The ensign turned off the engine.

"Please get out. You will need to transfer."

He led the way across the white sand. Every step crunched dryly. Trash washed in by the tide covered everything. It was hard to tell where sand ended and water began. Only this much was clear: the side with waves was sea, and the side without was land. Gyeoul frowned. A thick burnt smell drifted in from somewhere. He turned toward it and saw a pile beyond the windbreak trees, as black as dusk itself.

Joanna looked worried again.

"With this much floating debris, are we really not going to have problems on the way?"

The ensign answered casually.

"That is why another boat is coming as escort and backup. The biggest problem is the nets people cast because they still try to fish in this sickening sea. When those nets get damaged, nobody picks them up. They stay tied to buoys and just drift around... We have wrecked plenty of engines and screws because of that. Warning them does nothing."

He kept grumbling that the number of operable boats had dropped to less than half.

Two patrol boats were prepared. Both were small. About forty-seven feet long, around 14.6 meters. The kind of boat that bounced on top of the water once it accelerated. Gyeoul said nothing, but the ensign hurried to explain.

"Anything bigger than this struggles to cut through those sewer-alley channels over there. With medium-size vessels or larger, turning the bow in an emergency gets hard..."

Gyeoul cut him off.

"I see. But sewer alleys?"

"Ah. That is our slang around here. Same idea: go deep into a back corner, and you find thugs."

It fit.

A speedboat needed four crew to run. But even the one Gyeoul boarded already had a full squad waiting. Every one of them wore body armor over life vests. The moment Gyeoul got on, all of them snapped to attention. Sergeant Lazaro guided him inside.

"Please head into the cabin. Even if something happens, the bulletproof glass should keep you from getting hurt."

"Looks like firefights happen often."

"Often... not that often. Those bastards know we are their lifeline. But a few months ago one boat disappeared. We still do not know which gang did it. Sons of bitches. We should have made an example out of somebody..."

At that, Ensign Barker jutted out his lips.

"Hey. That still does not mean we can sacrifice innocent people."

From the ensign's reaction alone, it was easy to imagine what kind of "example" the sergeant wanted.

Gyeoul stood in the cabin with Joanna. There were no seats, only handholds.

The two speedboats started moving. The thick sea split open. Tuk-tuk, thud, tuk-tuk. Hard objects struck the bow and bounced away. Soldiers gripping machine-gun mounts on the front and rear decks kept scanning all sides. Joanna asked the ensign a question.

"What about the weapons and ammunition we brought on Corona Triumph?"

"Ah, those will be transported later by separate means. Right now we do not have a method."

"That is unfortunate. Some specially requested equipment is in that shipment."

She frowned, but did not push further.

The route kept bending. Paths formed naturally through this city of dead ships, and they were close to a maze. Even so, movement was not hindered, thanks to advanced equipment installed without exception, even on these small boats. Gyeoul watched gray shading on the helm display. A wide-angle infrared monitor. It was surprisingly clear.

'America, through and through...'

Still, it was hard to pick up speed. Floating debris was not the only issue. Traffic was too. Tiny boats so rusted it was a wonder they still floated. Wooden ones too. What were those people even moving around for?

The nearby island refused to get any closer.

On the deck of a Chinese fishing boat ahead, a shirtless man stared this way. His thick body was covered in tattoos. A rusted cleaver was stuck in his waistband. On the infrared screen he glowed white.

"Dirty Chinky bastard. We should shoot things like that on sight."

Sergeant Lazaro spat out the slur. He had been tense from the start. Joanna shot him a dark look. Gyeoul could sense her concern. She hoped this hatred the sergeant showed was not a tendency that had spread through the U.S. military in this whole region.

Separate from that concern, the chance that the knife-wearing man was an ordinary civilian was close to zero. His bulky body alone was proof of a raider's life.

The man grinned. Even as a machine gun's sight line swung back onto him, he did not care. He shoved a hand down his pants and scratched his junk. Then he pulled it out and sniffed his fingers, grimacing with a drawn-out ugh. A naked provocation.

They moved a little farther, and now the route narrowed. Not because the waterway itself disappeared, but because small boats and even planks pressed in from both sides. Half-naked people came rowing with their hands.

"Stay back! I said stay back!"

Soldiers on deck barked in every direction. The gestures were threatening enough to understand even without language.

But the half-naked people did not give up easily. Their faces were blank. They did not beg with expressions meant to trigger pity. They only came closer in silence and held out their hands. Resignation showed in their posture: good if they got something, nothing to do if they did not.

Organized begging, obviously. Whatever they got would be stolen anyway. If they ate it on the spot, they probably would not survive the night.

Only one person among them showed clear emotion: a mother. From the back of an overcrowded skiff, she kept sending a desperate look. Weak as she was, she tried several times to push through the people who would not yield. She fell again and again trying to force a gap. Even in that mess, she held the baby in her arms as carefully as she could.

Joanna's eyes met hers.

As if asking them to take the child, the mother lifted her baby up. The baby moved its mouth as if about to cry. No sound came out. Maybe because they were inside the cabin, or maybe the baby had no strength from not eating. Thin from hunger, the child looked like death.

Ensign Barker glanced back.

"Do not look. It will only hurt."

"I know."

Her voice was calmer than expected. The FBI agent accepted the limits of reality the way duty demanded. But several emotions flickered around her eyes, and she wiped them away with her fingertips. Then she muttered, almost to herself.

"Compassion you cannot take responsibility for is worse than not giving it at all."

She could not take that baby. Could she raise it herself? The best she could do was leave it to someone else here, someone other than Gyeoul. Fort Baker might have enough room to take in one child.

But that would be passing the cost of a good deed onto someone else. Irresponsible.

From the baby's perspective, irresponsible kindness might still be better. Then again, staying with the mother might be better too. Who could guarantee the future? A child raised without love lived in darkness. Sometimes life could be harder than death.

As someone involved in that truth himself, Gyeoul believed there was no single right answer.

The island came close all at once.

That one-way trip felt emotionally long and physically short. Soldiers trained in this kind of emotional labor looked no more worn down than before. Joanna moved a little slower among them. Her steps looked like someone leaving with regrets still behind her. Motherhood was not the exclusive domain of married women. In his experience, it was not purely an inborn instinct either.

Gyeoul thought of his mother. Then he looked back on the world before his death.

"Ann."

"Yes, Gyeoul."

"Do you not think people who get used to tragedy are sadder than tragedy itself?"

"...You are right. That is frightening."

"I am glad you still do not seem used to it."

Joanna let out a weak laugh.

"Wow, it has been a long time since I have felt this embarrassed."

She shook her head and quickened her pace. Ensign Barker was waiting with a Humvee.

The Humvee convoy drove north across the island.

There was also a base at the place where the submarine was waiting.

At the entrance, Ensign Barker said goodbye.

"You can head in from here. I will turn back now."

"Ah, right. Thank you for your work. Stay safe until we meet again."

At Gyeoul's farewell, the ensign made an unusual hand gesture. He held his index and middle fingers together, his ring finger and little finger together, then opened his hand.

"Live long and prosper, both of you."

It seemed to be related to Star Trek or something like that. Is this how you do it? Gyeoul returned the same greeting, and the ensign looked extremely happy. The FBI investigator sighed beside him.

============================ Author's Note ============================

I am not feeling very well, so I will skip the afterword. I will reply next time. :)

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