Chapter 18

Gabriel scratched his head violently, which was still throbbing from the drunkenness of the previous night. He was in his cabin on the bottom bunk, next to Heitor, a fisherman with a rugged face and sunburned skin, who was snoring loudly, making Gabriel's head ache even more.

On the upper bunk, one of Rosa's arms could be seen swaying. She was Gabriel's other roommate. They had been drinking late into the night in the dining hall to celebrate the start of the fishing season, and Gabriel had learned the hard way how much weaker his resistance to alcohol was. He suspected that what he drank was practically pure liquor.

There were very few rookies, since everyone was called "Ração" (Food), and they were easy to distinguish from the rest by being thinner and not overly muscular. Gabriel didn't understand why these people were so strong.

A new wave of itching took over his head, and he twisted uncomfortably on the well-worn straw mattress when Rosa's head appeared at the edge of the bed. The woman with short hair was looking at him curiously.

"Is it itching?" she asked, referring to his head.

"You have no idea," Gabriel replied.

"I do," she said, smiling, and then shouted to Heitor, who was still sleeping. "Heitor! Heitor, wake up!"

"What is it?" grumbled the man in a groggy voice.

"The rookie's got fleas."

Heitor stayed silent for a moment, then sat up laughing uncontrollably. His laughter made no sound, but his body shook as if he were laughing hard.

"Did I get lice?" Gabriel asked, irritated.

"No, 'Ração'!" Rosa corrected as she got off the bed. "Fleas, for real."

"It was too quick," Heitor commented, now stopping his laughter but still flushed. "We all got them."

"That's why the short hair," Rosa added as she changed clothes in front of the two men without any shame.

Gabriel felt something crawling near his right ear, pulling a flea that had been walking in his hair. He had to use all his self-control not to curse every name he knew, instead, he asked:

"How do I get rid of this?"

"Let's go to the deck," Heitor said, getting up. "I'll take care of it. You wanna come?" Rosa asked.

The woman just nodded as she left the cabin and entered the iron corridors of the old ocean liner. Gabriel reluctantly got up and started marching behind her, giving one last look to Heitor, who was still lying down. Taking a deep breath, he exited into the hallway, knowing he had a goal there.

"Straight to the deck!" Heitor shouted from the room. "I'm on my way."

"Alright," Gabriel replied.

The Crow nodded as he observed the hallway, which was entirely made of iron, reminiscent of the inside of a sardine can. White lights gave the place a melancholic air, pipes of various colors lined the ceiling, and against the wall, an air duct ran along its path.

Gabriel grimaced as he looked at the duct. He didn't have good memories of such structures. Leaving the cabin behind, he walked past a small balcony where he could see the sea stretching into the distance. It was strange to think he was trapped in an iron cocoon while freedom was right next door. The ocean liner didn't move with the waves; it felt like standing on solid ground. In the first hours, Gabriel had hoped the iron behemoth would sink under its own weight, but there it was, rusty and floating.

People hurried past him frequently, forcing him to shrink against the iron walls. The difference in musculature was striking. He felt almost scrawny in front of the muscle-bound men, and finally understood why everyone had short hair. Fleas.

He smelled the meal being prepared in the kitchens, fish and something else he couldn't identify. One of the pale lights flickered as he passed underneath it.

"Got fleas?" shouted a woman, nearly two meters tall, from the other end of the corridor.

"From the itching, I wouldn't doubt it."

"Nothing like the first rite of initiation," she said, laughing loudly as she disappeared into some cabin.

Gabriel didn't know who the woman was, but he kept thinking about what she meant by "first rite." A new wave of itching made him forget those thoughts. He hurried to the deck.

The ocean liner was huge inside, with countless corridors that went up and down, creating intersections. He didn't even know half of what he needed to, but the path to the deck was simple—he just needed to go up. The salty sea breeze hit his face as soon as he exited the ship's interior. The sun was low and warm. Gabriel noticed many others were there, all scratching violently.

A rusted iron railing kept the crew from falling into the sea. Even though he didn't trust the structure, Gabriel walked to it, looking at the vast blue ocean stretching as far as the eye could see. The dock of Cova Dois had disappeared a few hours after they left, and seagulls were squawking above the ship. Gabriel assumed they lived in nests spread out across the ship. He didn't believe the birds had flown so far out to sea. Leaning against one of the old iron rails, which creaked under his weight, he looked at the hull of the ship cutting through the water. Waves formed around the hull, tearing through the ocean like an arrow. It was a bit funny, Gabriel thought, since it didn't seem like they were moving due to the unchanging blue landscape around them.

Somewhere in the vastness of the water lay The Civilization Beyond the Sea, people who had fled to oil platforms during the Third War of the Old Ones. Gabriel knew the same as everyone else about them—they were financially powerful people who had sought refuge from radiation as far from land as possible. There were many speculations about them, like the fact that they lived on an island surrounded by oil platforms that formed a wall around them, or that their technology was far more advanced since they hadn't been discarded in a futile war. Gabriel believed in the latter.

"Rações!!" Marcos shouted, addressing all the rookies.

Gabriel turned immediately. He hadn't noticed the other man on the deck. A much larger group of fishermen had gathered to watch what was about to happen. The Crow needed to ask the man where to find Marcelo, but he hadn't had a chance yet. He would take advantage of this moment.

"By the way you're itching," Marcos continued, "You must've gotten fleas. As the host of this fishing vessel, I'll help you with your afflictions."

At that moment, the place exploded with applause and cheers of encouragement. All eight rookies, including Gabriel, exchanged unsure looks as they faced the intense situation. Marcos then raised one hand to silence the crowd, and he did, lifting his other hand theatrically, showing the object he was holding, which drew another round of applause from the crowd.

The man was holding a long razor blade, its edge shining against the morning sun. Gabriel felt a growing panic in his chest, immediately imagining death, and the nickname "Ração" referred to what they'd do with his body. His hands were sweating cold.

"Who's going to be the first to go bald?!" Marcos shouted, along with the other fishermen.

Gabriel felt laughter rising violently, but he managed to suppress it, feeling foolish for the thoughts he'd just had. He saw that another rookie beside him was also pale, probably having come to the same wrong conclusions as Gabriel.

"No one?" Marcos said, pretending to be indignant. "I'll have to choose then!"

The fishermen shouted for someone to choose one of the rookies they already knew. Marcos fixed his gaze on Gabriel and spoke louder for everyone to hear.

"Let's start with the whale boy!" Everyone agreed. The guy who had yelled at the whales during the storm had quickly become popular among the fishermen. "Come on, let's take care of those lice."

"I feel so loved," Gabriel joked as he went immediately to the man calling him, whispering as he approached. "I need to ask about Marcelo."

"Later, kid," Marcos replied, pushing him against the iron railing and forcing the boy's head down. "First, let's deal with the fleas."

Gabriel found himself staring at the ocean as his black hair fell toward the water. Marcos worked efficiently, leaving the Crow's head as smooth as an egg shell.

"Looks great!" Marcos said, showing his work to everyone. "Next!"

Thrown back into the crowd, Gabriel went over to Heitor and Rosa, who were laughing at him. He ran his hands over his head, where some spots were rough due to the shaving not being done properly. But the itching had disappeared.

"You look marvelous!" Rosa joked, laughing, her laugh sounding like a pig.

"Another man for sure," Heitor added.

Marcos worked masterfully, and in half an hour, all eight of the newbies, including Gabriel, had smooth, bald heads shining in the sun. The short girl who had been sad about losing her curly locks was quietly crying.

"Now, let's go over how your roles will work," Marcos started, walking toward the group.

Seeing that the event was over, the group began to disperse, returning to their tasks. Gabriel and the bald ones went to listen to the older fisherman's explanations.

"Everyone knows we'll be fishing for Storm Tuna, and as the name says, this animal only inhabits places like this. It needs the turmoil so the sea has the right amount of oxygen, but I won't go into too much detail. First, I want you all to look at the hull of the ship to your right."

The group curiously walked over to the indicated spot, looking down at the water below, where dozens of small windows formed five rows along the hull, arranged in such a way that they didn't overlap.

"What you're seeing," Marcos continued, "are the places where we send the anchors into the sea. We need stability during the storm, but mainly, they serve as counterweights."

Everyone exchanged confused looks. The Crow understood the need for anchors to keep the transatlantic still, but this new information made him curious, and he realized he wasn't the only one. Even the girl who was mourning her lost curls was paying close attention.

"I want you to remember when you boarded the ship. Do you all remember the various hatches along the hull?" Seeing heads nodding, Marcos continued, "We throw the nets through them, lower them all to catch the fish, but the force of the water would flip us over, which is why we use the anchors."

"Are you saying..." started a chubby boy with red cheeks. "That we could all die while fishing?"

"Yes," Marcos answered simply.

The newbies whispered nervously among themselves. Gabriel, however, didn't say anything. He was already used to the idea of dying. Noticing that the bald ones were becoming agitated, Marcos spoke up.

"Before you have a panic attack, I need to show you the fishing areas."

He didn't wait for any questions, leaving the group to follow him. The silence was oppressive, and taking advantage of it, Gabriel approached Marcos.

"Marcos!"

"What's up, kid?" the man answered, looking over his shoulder. "You're pretty calm for someone who might die in the next few days."

"I'm tough!" Gabriel said, making a face, which made the man exhale and hold back a laugh. "Back to what I wanted to ask, where can I find Marcelo?"

"He works in the anchor area. He should be over there, checking if everything's good with the chains."

"Good to know," Gabriel murmured.

The group descended a spiral staircase and stopped in front of a corridor leading both ways. Marcos entered the first door, which led directly into a warehouse. The net was hung from the ceiling, made of wire, with two thick black ropes tied in the center. The ropes hung loose, swaying gently in the middle of the steel warehouse.

Where the hull of the transatlantic ship should have been, there was the hatch, fastened to the ship with ten iron hinges, and at the top, the chain that lowered it extended and was attached to two motors. Gabriel realized that when it was lowered, the hatch would resemble a plank. Various ropes, similar to the ones swaying in the middle of the warehouse, were tied, securing the net just like the others. Next to the door, two wooden brooms, each over a meter long, were hung by nails.

"Here," Marcos said, spreading his arms wide. "This is where the magic happens. It works like this: all the hatches are lowered at the same time. You'll feel the jolt right away, because we'll be here!" he said, heading toward two long pipes running from the hatch to the wall of the room. "At that moment, all the ropes in the room will be loose, and then we run to the sea, throwing the net. Without letting go of the rope, we return to the pipes."

That was madness, Gabriel thought, feeling a strange excitement grow in his stomach. The others around him didn't share the Crow's insanity. Marcos continued.

"Two people will be responsible for removing as much water as possible using the brooms. Not that it makes much difference for the ship, but it does when we pull the nets in." Moving toward one of the ropes tied to the wall, he grabbed it. "We'll pull the net with all our strength back onto the boat, and as soon as the catch is secured, the hatches go up again. Any questions?"

"Who," asked the girl who had lost her curls, "is going to be responsible for the brooms?"

"You all!" Marcos said indifferently. "This is the trial by fire, to stop being Fish Feed."

There was no way to describe the atmosphere other than regret, Gabriel mused. Each of the newbies was clearly rethinking their decisions. The Crow didn't care; he'd done crazier things in his life. But he now understood why everyone on the crew was so strong. Pulling the net with the ocean roaring soon made anyone find strength they didn't know they had.

"Now I'm going to let you enjoy the day," Marcos said, returning to the corridor. He knew this would be the first of many.

Gabriel slipped away with the man, leaving the laments and cries behind. He didn't have time for that and quickly caught up to Marcos halfway.

"This anchor area," the boy suddenly spoke, making Marcos jump in surprise. "How do I get there?"

The man looked at Gabriel intently and then laughed, slapping the young man's shoulder so hard he coughed from the impact.

"Not at all shaken! I like it!"

"A little bit of water doesn't bother me!"

"Really, I'm betting you'll be one of the ones who survive!"

"What?"

— Let's make a pool to see who dies or not!

— Wow, that's so morbid — murmured Gabriel, who had participated in these games many times, often as one of the names. — I hope you bet on me!

— Of course! — Marcos resumed walking, followed by the young man. — As for the anchor place, just follow here! — he pointed to the path on the left at the end of the stairs. Gabriel, thanking without knowing who, followed the corridor that had been indicated.

For the first time, he felt the ship rock, forcing him to hold onto the wall. The sea was beginning to get stormy, he assumed. The rush in the corridor was frantic, muscular and bald bodies squeezed through the iron tube. Shouts for help or someone doing something wrong were common throughout the environment, and the language left Gabriel shocked. He really didn't know the world of obscenities as he thought he did.

The anchor room was easy to find, being the only door in the corridor. The young man entered, squeezing between two women who passed by with thick chains draped over their shoulders. Ignoring the curses he received from the two, Gabriel scanned the room. The place was spacious, occupying the entire diameter of the hull. The anchors were on conveyors, the tips facing the windows. These solid iron objects were long, and at the ocean-facing ends, they had a ball, resembling giant matchsticks.

At the opposite end of the tip, a chain similar to the ones the women carried earlier was fastened directly to the iron, and a hoop the thickness of Gabriel's arms was welded into the hull next to the conveyor, with the chain secured to that hoop. Facing the doors, dozens of gasoline-powered motors were positioned in front of each conveyor, responsible for pulling the chains back. The flow in the room was intense, with everyone preparing for the fishing.

— Or egghead! — someone shouted at Gabriel. — What are you doing here?

— I'd like to talk to Marcelo! — the young man replied, unsure if he had spoken to the right person.

— He's in the motors on the right! — another voice shouted.

Thanking the voice without knowing who it was, the Raven walked quickly, dodging the musclemen and chains that clinked constantly. Gabriel was about to ask someone else where his target was when a figure in front of a motor caught his attention.

A thin man, compared to the other fishermen, was fiddling with the parts of a motor using a wrench. It was clear he was terrified of something.

— Marcelo? — Gabriel asked.

— Yes — the man replied without turning to the young man. — I'm busy, no time to talk.

— I think you'll make some time — the young man replied, squatting in front of him. — I heard you saw some different things.

Marcelo stopped immediately, sweat broke out on his face as he spoke without turning to look at Gabriel.

— Are you mocking me?

— No — Gabriel answered immediately, slightly offended. — I just want to know more about what you saw.

— I told everyone a million times — Marcelo's voice trembled with desperation. — There's something taking people, but no one believed me.

— What kind of thing? — Gabriel asked carefully, hoping the man would reveal something useful.

— It was a woman — his voice now filled with fear.

— Woman? — Gabriel kept the information in mind.

— I don't know if I can call it a woman — for the first time, the man turned to face Gabriel. — She had pieces of metal on her body, two blades came out of her arm. She was a monster, a damn monster.

— Stay calm — the Raven tried to reassure him, the mention of the blades caught his attention, reminding him of the mutilated bodies. — Can you describe it better?

— No one believed me — the man continued frantically, completely ignoring what had been asked. — I told my friends on the ship, the Ravens, nothing, no one did anything, and this isn't the first time that thing was seen, near the Nest at the entrance, it appeared many times, and nothing was done!

Gabriel then realized, with a pang in his chest, that the man's sanity was compromised. There was no way to trust anything that came out of his mouth. He stood up, his knees aching from squatting for so long.

— Thanks for your help — he said, feeling defeated.

— No one noticed — the man continued, ignoring the fact that Gabriel was leaving. — Only people without deformities are disappearing! So far, the Pit hasn't reacted to it! The reason is simple, an aberration like that could only have come from one place!

That paralyzed the young man. Even amidst the man's outburst, he had pointed out something Gabriel hadn't considered. All the missing people did indeed seem to be those without physical deformities. Or were the ones with deformities going through the same situation? The young man wondered.

— You've been very helpful — Gabriel said, feeling rejuvenated. Even amidst the madness, the man had shared two useful things.

Leaving Marcelo, who was muttering to himself, behind, Gabriel walked through the cramped corridors, immersed in thought. For a moment, he thought his colleagues' disbelief in talking to a fisherman was right. Fortunately, he followed his instincts, or perhaps his stubbornness, and ended up discovering something useful, including the fact that it was a woman.

The mention of the Nest near the entrance came to his mind, but then he quickly forgot it, seeing the sky on the horizon. The young man ended up back outside the transatlantic, and what he saw filled him with fear and anxiety.

The sky directly above the ship was clear blue, but in the distance, it darkened, with a band of clouds so dense and black that it seemed like one solid mass. Thunder illuminated parts of the darkness at regular intervals, resembling the heartbeat of a colossal creature. It felt like the sky was breaking into two, the clear blue stretched out and suddenly disappeared, giving way to the storm.

— An impressive sight — commented Rosa, who had stayed by the young man's side.

— Are we heading there? — Gabriel asked, not noticing the other had approached.

— Yes.

— Now I understand why they talked about the rain on the whale day, the rain that day seemed like a drizzle compared to this.

— The fishing is going to be good! — Rosa said, laughing like a pig again.

Gabriel felt his fingers go numb. Perhaps this was one of the craziest things he'd done in his life. Looking at the fishermen, he wondered if they weren't more suicidal than the Stain Explorers. The transatlantic was heading toward the storm.