Gutter mumbled, "Sidebar," pulling aside
Harold and the others. "You didn't tell us he was programmed to speak
Portuguese."
"Well, I didn't know the specifics,
exactly," Harold replied. His gaze shifted, flickering from the group to
the troubled Columbus in the corner.
"In your face, Harold," Gutter said, turning
to face Columbus.
From the aforementioned corner, the pioneer yelled,
"O que você está fazendo?" He appeared to become increasingly
irritated, even wielding a small saber at that point.
"Blackpoleon Blackaparte," Gutter eyed the
guide, clarifying, "Harold, I need you to outflank the enemy fire."
Gutter winked, and tossed him a silver Desert Eagle
pistol, along with two fully loaded magazines. A heavy knock erupted from the
quarters' doors, followed by more Portuguese mutterings outside. They prodded
at the door with their swords in an attempt to twist the locking mechanism.
From behind Columbus' desk, he cocked his two pistols
back and fired away at the double doors, shredding them to bits. The rounds
popped through the doors, lodging themselves in the limestone walls of the
staircase, whirling up a tornado of splinters to hold off the conquistadors.
In the bay, the ships were set aflame at the beginning
of the Solar Eclipse, and at the arrival of the Britain's Royal Navy.
"Fare you well," Ron said, giving one final look at Harold before
jumping out the window. He, along with Mike, Laura, and Gutter, landed belly
first in thick sand, just shy of the ocean. A burning palm tree, which grew aside
the castle, broke his fall, covering him in just about fifty shades of gray
ash.
The Moon, now an orange waning crescent, lit the sky
with a warm copper tint. Eventually, the Moon had completely engulfed the Sun
with itself, a great disk illuminating nothing, yet giving a gentle sense of
horror. Red and white rays streaked out from behind the Moon, just remnants of
the Sun's reach for seven minutes. Asteroids of gold and tin, lighting up the
night sky with an exuberant glow for a fleeting moment, came crashing down from
the heavens.
As they entered town, British soldiers, coming in
small, scattered bunches, paraded around the town at
the Portuguese's defeat.
The group crossed the drawbridge, billowing with foot traffic earlier the same
day, now empty, and battered, and strewn with wood branches. The Mary Rose,
of the Royal Navy, had replaced the Santa Maria's place in the harbor,
as Columbus' flagship billowed with smoke, masts collapsing into its blazing
armament deck.
It was a beautiful scene, albeit tragic: varying
shades of oranges and reds skimmed the bay as sailors stormed the beaches,
precursed by explosions of wood, and plumes of sand and smoke.
When Ron, Mike, Laura, and Gutter returned to the hill
they had arrived on, they were left with nothing to say, turning to the deep
expanse of space and the scintillating myriads of stars for answers. They
counted the stars by near candlelight, and all were dim, yet one was bright.
After the eclipse, the spiral light of Stella Blue
rose first and shone the best, and would be the light to guide them to their
nests.
-
Written by Jerry Zervas on 5/22/26.
DO NOT USE UNLESS GIVEN PERMISSION BY ME (i.e. email
me)
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