Chapter 5:
O&D — Locked up
Threading the Stars
When Oliver first arrived in this strange place, he’d awoken in a soft bed surrounded by a family of three bears, purely convinced he was in the midst of one of his elaborate daydreams.
Now when he opens his eyes, he sees the dim light of a rusted lantern illuminating the outside of a dirty cell. The musty odor of wet wood holds fast in his nostrils, disorienting him even further.
When he tries to hold onto the cell bars, every inch of his palms sear with pain.
“Hello?” He croaks.
The sound of footsteps against the creaking wood overhead tells him he’s not alone, but no one answers. Shouting worsens the throbbing pain in his head that holds gaps in his memory of how he ended up in a place like this. But the dark space brings up another memory—one from back home.
He was hiding away in the closet, one of many times since he’d picked up the habit as a kid. But unlike his comfy set up with blankets, pillows, snacks, and a movie, he was lying in dirt here.
At least someone was kind enough to bandage his injuries. Cradling his hands, Oliver paces around the tiny room. Biting his nails would hurt too much, so he chews the inside of his cheek instead, letting his mind wander to what his family might be up to.
As he paces, he begins to slip into his head. The dark cell melts away, and he remembers that he’s not a prisoner, but a chemist on his way to making a breakthrough in his research to find the cure for sunpox. He’s just about to carefully pour a smidge of a lavender color liquid into a green test tube, when the three Bears who’ve just moved in next door invite him up to their treehouse for lunch. There’s a gorgeous array of different foods on the table. He’s about to take a bite of his roast beef sandwich—
“Oh, you’re awake.”
Oliver flails and snaps his head towards the voice.
Hands above his head and a knee in the air, he notices someone standing beyond his prison. His face is encased in shadow, but his silhouette is different from the monsters he’d come across on his journey after leaving the three Bears’ gentle woods. It may be a trick of the light, but Oliver feels like he can see the other boy’s irises glowing like embers in the dark.
Lowering his arms and legs into a normal position, he responds, “yes…?”
The stranger sounds like he’s holding back laughter when he says, “if you’re sober, the boss wants you upstairs.”
Boss? If he talks to this person, maybe he can sort things out!
The stranger unlocks the cell and gestures for him to come out. He’s a mite shorter than Oliver when they stand next to each other. His eyebrows are covered by the headband he wears. He walks Oliver through a dark hallway where the only light comes from above.
When he emerges from below, the wide open space of the moonlit deck stops him in his tracks. They're far out to sea, the mainland a speck the distance. He thought it must be his headache that was making the floor feel so unsteady.
“There you are, you rotten bastard,” a rough voice barks at him.
He whips around. A large pirate stomps towards him along with an entourage of vicious-looking men.
The one who released him stands at attention when he reaches them in an exaggerated manner.
“Have you got anything to say for your miserable self?”
Oliver wracks his brain to try remembering what happened before all of this, but comes up with nothing. “I don’t remember what happened…”
“You don’t remember? How drunk were you?” His escort snorts.
“Filthy excuses.” He hawks a glob of saliva that just avoids Oliver’s sandals on the ground. “Lock him up. I look forward to tomorrow.” He glares at Oliver like he’s trying to poison him with his eyes.
Oliver has to be dragged back down the hull by two other crew members— a bat-man a cyclops. They throw him into the cell, making his hands explode with pain when he tries to break his fall.
“I must be dreaming, yeah, this is just a really bad daydream…” he assures himself.
When he looks up, the one who released him is still observing him even after the others left.
Desperate, Oliver asks, “what’s going to happen?”
“They’re probably just gonna make you walk the plank, not too big a deal.”
Oliver’s mouth hangs open. "Walk the plank?“
“Hmmm.” He taps his chin. “Should I tell you?”
“I’m begging you!” Oliver cries.
“All right, all right, settle down.” He says. “All I remember is you coming in with some cargo and then falling on your face.”
Through the fog in his brain, it starts to come back in reverse order—how he’d been made to pick up the glass bottles he’d broken with his bare hands, before that, he was stumbling around with a crate someone pushed into his hands after he’d come across a tavern when he was wandering aimlessly looking for water. He’d been thirsty enough to guzzle down the first thing he could put to his lips. The nauseatingly sweet taste of that honey colored drink still lingers on his tongue.
Oliver runs his fingers through his hair before the pain reminds him he shouldn’t. “I shouldn’t have listened to that man at the tavern,” he whimpers.
“Yeah that sucks. Personally? I don’t listen to anyone about anything. But good luck, I guess.”
“Wait!” Oliver cries.
“Huh?”
Oliver searches anything to say. “I never got your name…?”
“Does it matter when you’re about to walk the plank?”
Hopes dashed, Oliver sighs and leans against the wall of the cell, letting his arms hang over his knees.
“All right I guess I can tell you if you’re that desperate.” He laughs. “It’s Dante.”
“…I’m Oliver. Listen, I know it doesn’t matter, but can you… stay here for a while?”
“I guess I’ve got nothing better to do.” Dante shrugs and sits cross legged in front of the bars.
They stay silent for a while other than the occasional scrape of Dante adjusting his legs on the floor.
Oliver groans. “How did it come to this…”
“Honestly,” Dante scoffs. “Messing up so bad on your first day? Talk about unlucky.”
Now when he opens his eyes, he sees the dim light of a rusted lantern illuminating the outside of a dirty cell. The musty odor of wet wood holds fast in his nostrils, disorienting him even further.
When he tries to hold onto the cell bars, every inch of his palms sear with pain.
“Hello?” He croaks.
The sound of footsteps against the creaking wood overhead tells him he’s not alone, but no one answers. Shouting worsens the throbbing pain in his head that holds gaps in his memory of how he ended up in a place like this. But the dark space brings up another memory—one from back home.
He was hiding away in the closet, one of many times since he’d picked up the habit as a kid. But unlike his comfy set up with blankets, pillows, snacks, and a movie, he was lying in dirt here.
At least someone was kind enough to bandage his injuries. Cradling his hands, Oliver paces around the tiny room. Biting his nails would hurt too much, so he chews the inside of his cheek instead, letting his mind wander to what his family might be up to.
As he paces, he begins to slip into his head. The dark cell melts away, and he remembers that he’s not a prisoner, but a chemist on his way to making a breakthrough in his research to find the cure for sunpox. He’s just about to carefully pour a smidge of a lavender color liquid into a green test tube, when the three Bears who’ve just moved in next door invite him up to their treehouse for lunch. There’s a gorgeous array of different foods on the table. He’s about to take a bite of his roast beef sandwich—
“Oh, you’re awake.”
Oliver flails and snaps his head towards the voice.
Hands above his head and a knee in the air, he notices someone standing beyond his prison. His face is encased in shadow, but his silhouette is different from the monsters he’d come across on his journey after leaving the three Bears’ gentle woods. It may be a trick of the light, but Oliver feels like he can see the other boy’s irises glowing like embers in the dark.
Lowering his arms and legs into a normal position, he responds, “yes…?”
The stranger sounds like he’s holding back laughter when he says, “if you’re sober, the boss wants you upstairs.”
Boss? If he talks to this person, maybe he can sort things out!
The stranger unlocks the cell and gestures for him to come out. He’s a mite shorter than Oliver when they stand next to each other. His eyebrows are covered by the headband he wears. He walks Oliver through a dark hallway where the only light comes from above.
When he emerges from below, the wide open space of the moonlit deck stops him in his tracks. They're far out to sea, the mainland a speck the distance. He thought it must be his headache that was making the floor feel so unsteady.
“There you are, you rotten bastard,” a rough voice barks at him.
He whips around. A large pirate stomps towards him along with an entourage of vicious-looking men.
The one who released him stands at attention when he reaches them in an exaggerated manner.
“Have you got anything to say for your miserable self?”
Oliver wracks his brain to try remembering what happened before all of this, but comes up with nothing. “I don’t remember what happened…”
“You don’t remember? How drunk were you?” His escort snorts.
“Filthy excuses.” He hawks a glob of saliva that just avoids Oliver’s sandals on the ground. “Lock him up. I look forward to tomorrow.” He glares at Oliver like he’s trying to poison him with his eyes.
Oliver has to be dragged back down the hull by two other crew members— a bat-man a cyclops. They throw him into the cell, making his hands explode with pain when he tries to break his fall.
“I must be dreaming, yeah, this is just a really bad daydream…” he assures himself.
When he looks up, the one who released him is still observing him even after the others left.
Desperate, Oliver asks, “what’s going to happen?”
“They’re probably just gonna make you walk the plank, not too big a deal.”
Oliver’s mouth hangs open. "Walk the plank?“
"Yeah I heard the captain talking about earlier. At least it’s not getting loaded into the canon, right?”
Oliver blanches. Scrambling to his knees he holds his hands up in the closest he can get to a pleading gesture. “Please, mate, if you know what happened, tell me!”“Hmmm.” He taps his chin. “Should I tell you?”
“I’m begging you!” Oliver cries.
“All right, all right, settle down.” He says. “All I remember is you coming in with some cargo and then falling on your face.”
Through the fog in his brain, it starts to come back in reverse order—how he’d been made to pick up the glass bottles he’d broken with his bare hands, before that, he was stumbling around with a crate someone pushed into his hands after he’d come across a tavern when he was wandering aimlessly looking for water. He’d been thirsty enough to guzzle down the first thing he could put to his lips. The nauseatingly sweet taste of that honey colored drink still lingers on his tongue.
Oliver runs his fingers through his hair before the pain reminds him he shouldn’t. “I shouldn’t have listened to that man at the tavern,” he whimpers.
“Yeah that sucks. Personally? I don’t listen to anyone about anything. But good luck, I guess.”
“Wait!” Oliver cries.
“Huh?”
Oliver searches anything to say. “I never got your name…?”
“Does it matter when you’re about to walk the plank?”
Hopes dashed, Oliver sighs and leans against the wall of the cell, letting his arms hang over his knees.
“All right I guess I can tell you if you’re that desperate.” He laughs. “It’s Dante.”
“…I’m Oliver. Listen, I know it doesn’t matter, but can you… stay here for a while?”
“I guess I’ve got nothing better to do.” Dante shrugs and sits cross legged in front of the bars.
They stay silent for a while other than the occasional scrape of Dante adjusting his legs on the floor.
Oliver groans. “How did it come to this…”
“Honestly,” Dante scoffs. “Messing up so bad on your first day? Talk about unlucky.”
Oliver gives a hollow laugh. “Yeah. I don’t remember being able to keep a part-time job for longer than a week back home. Oh… you guys probably don’t have that here.”
“What, part-time jobs?”Oliver nods, not realizing Dante can’t see it.
There’s a beat of silence before Dante bursts out laughing. The sound rings throughout the brig.
“Did you say ‘cock it’? What does that even mean?”
“'Cark it.' Like, ‘die,’” Oliver drones.
“Are you really from Earth?” He gasps. “What language is that?”
“English!” Oliver deflates. “Forget it.”
Dante twists to face him. “I’ve been wondering because of the accent, are you Australian?”
“Yeah. I moved away a while ago, though.”
Oliver occupies himself by tapping his sandals against the lifted rotting floorboards when the gears start to work in his brain.
“Wait, how do you know about Australia? Do they have Australia here?”
“They can’t do this in Australia.”
He turns his head and makes an odd noise in the back of his throat that sounds like someone striking a lighter, and a small spout of flames erupts from his mouth, curling into the air.
Oliver watches in awe as the fire dissipates.
Dante turns back to him with a gnarly grin, “Sick, right? Kept me nice and warm when I was stuck in the snow.”
“Cripes,” Oliver whispers. “You’re like a dragon…!”
“Only thing I’m missing is a wings and a tail,” Dante gloats.
“Wait, I’m confused.” Oliver squints as he tries to compile the information in his brain. How do you know about Australia exactly?”
Dante throws his hands up. “Do I have to spell it out for you? I’m from Earth, too!”
“But, you can breathe fire…
“Obviously I haven’t always been able to do it. I figured it out after I got here.”After all this time on his own, Oliver never expected to meet another human being. The plants are good company, but it’s still a relief to know that he’s not the only one of his own kind who ended up in this crazy place.
“What about you?” Dante asks. “Did you get any superpowers?”
“I can talk to plants now. Or more like they talk to me. Sounds lame compared to being a ruddy fire-breathing dragon, though.” He laughs.
“What do they say?”
“Random stuff. It’s honestly hard to understand sometimes. Like, they tried to teach me this thing with wood and sticks to help ‘show me the path?’ But I didn’t get it at all, so they’ve just been telling me where to go for a while. When they told me my name I was able to remember everything… except how I got here. How did you get here?”
“Just like you, I have no clue.”
“Heh, that rhymed.”
“Shut up," Oliver moans. “Did the plants tell you your name too?”
“Nah I don’t speak grass. See these?”
Dante holds up his red wristbands, and Oliver tries to make out the ‘D A N T E’ logo printed in blocky letters.
“I basically knew I was the moment I got here because I came wearing these bad boys.”“That’s lucky.”
“Man. It’s a shame you’re about to die, we could’ve hung out more!”
Their conversation had distracted Oliver from the gravity of his situation, and it piles back onto him like a ton of bricks.
He hangs his head between his legs. “I don’t want to die I haven’t done so many things…"
“Hm...Don’t worry. I’m formulating a plan right now.”Oliver sniffs. “What do you mean?”
Dante grips the bars. “I mean, I’m gonna get us out of here.”
“But aren’t they your mates? Why would you help me? How did you even end up joining a pirate crew?”
Dante shrugs. “Basically the same as you. Just kind of stumbled into it. I’ve been wanting to leave for a while. Like, it was fun at first, but constantly fighting sea monsters is getting stale.”
Oliver lurches forward. “Sea monsters??”
“Yeah that’s basically all these guys do is set sail and attack sea monsters. Didn’t you hear the sea serpent taking a chunk of the mast when you were in the brig?”
“No!!”
“Man, that liquor must’ve been some strong stuff. Anyways, since you’re here I’ve decided it’s time for the next chapter in my adventures. This whole thing is just the thing I needed.” Dante rubs his hands together like a cartoon villain.
“That’s not exactly an offer I can refuse, is it? How can I help?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Dante waves a hand. “Just wait for my signal, and we’ll be out of here before you know it.”
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