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AMBYSSUS | Ch. 13 - The Camp
🕑 Added 2023-08-15 13:33:43 +0000 UTCLocal Hero Saves Town
In an inspiring tale of selflessness, a local rancher has single-handedly secured the town's economic stability through his precautionary foresight and charitable spirit. Geoffrey Ford was born in the slums, where he had to fend for himself as an impoverished youth.
"Those were tough times, dark times. I tell all the children I meet that every meal is a gift and that they should never take even the simplest things for granted." Despite a bumpy start, Geoffrey was able to climb his way off poverty, as he told the Herald in an exclusive interview.
"For me, the turning point was when Mr. Jebediah Jones started the Opportunity School. I couldn't believe it when I was allowed to enroll. It changed my life. Mr. Jebediah's school opened my mind to everything I could do and changed my life."
Geoffrey's journey from poverty to prosperity is nothing short of remarkable. "My first job was begging, believe it or not. Then I got a newspaper route. From then on I did everything from sweeping chimneys, shining shoes, and baking pies."
"We appreciate Mr. Geoffrey's industriousness and precautionary measures," said Mr. Finley, an aide to the mayor. "The city thanks Mr. Geoffrey who stands as a reminder that every child of the city is a treasure that should be nurtured."
“What do you think?” questioned the professor, seeing the constable’s frown, “You seem to disagree with the praises?”
“I want to believe he is a hero,” started Joey cautiously. “I've known him since he was a child, and my dad believed in him enough to invest in his future.” After a few seconds of thought, Joey relaxed and leaned back into his chair. “But perhaps it's me just reading too much into things. There's no denying he's been providing a great service to the city. I guess time will tell whether he's a hero. How about you, professor? Did your research yesterday lead to anything interesting?”
The professor took a little notepad and put on some glasses like she was about to start a class. “Well, let's start with the more obvious things. First, I can confirm that there is no record of so many types of clines being so closely together anywhere else in nature.
“Well, that was a given based on what you had told me yesterday.”
“Right. In addition to that, I did some research on the various compositions of meteorites discovered throughout the world. I couldn't find anything to account for the changes caused to the lake's salinity.”
“OK. So, whatever this phenomenon is… is it the first of its kind?
“Correct. Furthermore, I went to the university and used their labs to examine the samples I collected from the lake more closely. I can tell you that there were no spikes in ammonia levels.”
“Which means,” prompted Joey.
“It means that there isn't anything dying in the lake. When many things die in a water medium, there is a spike in the production of ammonia caused by the bacteria that break it down.”
“That checks with the fact that different creatures are sticking to different layers of the cline.”
“Right. But it also means that the rearrangement of water was so sudden that it didn’t cause any damage to the ecosystem. There should have been at least a significant number of casualties to impact the lake's ecology. That baffles me. A change of such a scale and such an organized one. The odds of it happening are infinitesimally small.”
“What about the possibility of an underwater eruption?”
“No vestiges of sulfur compounds. I think we can discard that theory.”
Silence followed.
“Does this mean we have no leads?”
“I still think that the meteorite theory is the most likely one. It’s too much of a coincidence for a comet to be sighted on the same day the flood happened.”
"What's the next step then?"
“It will take days before we hear back from all the towns around the lake. Our best chance is to wait for Dr. Link's ship to arrive."
"Shall we go the camp then?"
"Let's go."
*
“Thank you for seeing me today, Mr. Wilson.”
Geoffrey had come to Mr. Wilson’s house in Rolling Hills, one of the richer neighborhoods in New Lisbon. Many of the city’s successful businessmen owned manors here. The streets were kept clean and neat. There was also a strong police presence which ensured the neighborhood’s tranquility.
Mr. Wilson stared Geoffrey down with his piercing blue eyes. He constantly took a handkerchief from his jacket’s pocket and wiped the sweat off his bald head. His mustache was kept neatly trimmed. He had more weight than he should, even if one used his age as an excuse for not being in shape. His neck fat popped out of his shirt’s collar, causing a bit of repulse to the faint of heart.
Even though the old man tried to appear superior and aloof in his leather chair, Geoffrey saw through the pretense. Mr. Wilson was having a hard time staying afloat. A little bird had told him that he had thrown quite a fit in the bank a couple of days earlier when he had been denied a loan. Sitting in the corner of the office, the presence of Mr. Wilson’s lawyer told Jeff that the man had learned his lesson and wouldn’t be easily baited by another of Geoffrey’s ruses.
“Congratulations on making the first page," said Mr. Wilson sarcastically. Geoffrey ignored the jab.
"Thank you. You know how papers work. They complimented far too much. You all are the real heroes if you ask me."
"What do you want, Jeff?” he spoke as he poured himself a scotch. Geoffrey noted that he hadn’t been offered any. “Are you here to rip me off again?”
“Rip you off? What do you mean?” Geoffrey’s voice seemed genuinely surprised. His acting skills were well-polished—another survival skill he'd picked in his life on the streets. He felt no pleasure in using them, but he needed Mr. Wilson's trust to succeed in his plan's next step.
“You know full well what I mean, boy. Your little maneuver with the contract. You weren’t fully honest with us!”
“This is all but a misunderstanding, Mr. Wilson. I can assure you that I have done nothing unlawful. Everyone was given full access to the contract before signing it. Including you.” Mr. Wilson shot his lawyer a furious glance. The man seemed to shrink in his chair.
“Tell me what you want, Jeff. I have to get to work.”
“Mr. Wilson, I know times are tough, and everyone has taken a blow this year.”
“Everyone but you, Jeff,” protested the old man.
“On the contrary. While I vacuum everyone’s cattle, I have no time to tend to my own. Please believe me when I tell you that seeing my fellow men suffer gives me no pleasure. It keeps me awake at night.” The statement was said with sincerity. Geoffrey meant it. He felt no pleasure in seeing others suffer. Mr. Wilson studied him, thrown off by his sincerity.
“I will get straight to the point,” continued Geoffrey. “Having accepted payment in the form of sea cow stock, I need space to build additional pens to expand my operations.”
“Yeah, so?” At the mention of their previous business dealing, Mr. Wilson’s hatred came back with a passion.
“I would like to buy a part of your property. Namely, the land immediately adjacent to the lakeshore.”
Wilson eyed him suspiciously. “What’s your endgame, Jeff? You know that after the flood, everyone must move their facilities to higher ground. There’s no way the Mayor will let us keep our facilities on the shore. That land is next to worthless to me at the moment.” Realization dawning on Mr. Wilson added accusingly, “Are you trying to cut me off the lake?”
“Not at all, not at all. I need the extra space to build my pens. I am willing to buy it from you in cash.” Mr. Wilson wiped his bald head with the handkerchief once again. The prospect of some money coming in was enticing. Even with the Mayor’s help, he was close to bankruptcy. “I am also willing to let your good legal aide,” he said, pointing to the lawyer, “Draft up an agreement in which I promise I won’t cut you off the lake. I was thinking of letting you pay rent, similar to what railtors do when securing the rights to install tracks on a property.”
“What if I want to keep just a little bit of the land connecting to the lake?”
“Come on now, Mr. Wilson. I need all the space I can get, and you need all the cash you can get. To give you a good offer, I'm only willing to buy all the land you own near the lake. If you really must have that tiny piece of land, so be it. But my offer will be considerably less generous. Take it or leave it. Of course, I can always go to Wilkinson and buy his lakefront properties.”
Geoffrey conveniently kept to himself that he had already done so. Technically, it wasn’t his yet, because the contract still had to be signed, but he had shaken hands with Wilkinson before he had come here. This was the sixth land purchase he made this morning and the seventeenth this week. He already owned ten percent of the lake’s shore.
Geoffrey could see the gears turn inside Mr. Wilson's head as he considered it. He needed cash, fast. The bank had just turned him away. He was facing the risk of losing everything. On the one hand, he didn’t want to be cut off from the lake, but on the other hand, he didn’t need the land anymore. Were he to keep his facilities on the shore, right on top of the lake, he faced the risk of another flood or, worse, being fined by the mayor’s office.
Even as for pens, even though it was useful to keep herds close to the beach, he could keep them a bit further out and just rent the access to the lake and a mooring place for his subs. Mr. Wilson. closed his fists.
Yes. Geoffrey could see how he didn’t want to become someone's tenant. But he had knocked at every door he could. The mayor told him he had given him all that he could. His fellow producers were having a hard time staying afloat. There was no bank willing to lend him a dime. He looked at his lawyer, waiting for a signal, and Geoffrey caught the approving nod through the reflection of Mr. Wilson's glass.
Mr. Wilson stood up and stretched out his hand toward Geoffrey. “You got yourself a deal.”
*
Dr. Link's camp wasn't set too far from where they had visited yesterday. Even though they were calling it a camp, there were no tents. The scientists had set up a base on one of the buildings of Wilkshire Port. This had once been one of the most important strongholds that guaranteed the lake's safety and kept pirates at bay. Nowadays, it was just a small port kept in a good enough state to keep pirates scared from going back into the water but not so well-maintained that it emptied the mayor's coffers.
This where had been the port from where Dr. Link's expedition had departed a few days earlier. He'd said he'd be back in the morning of this day, and since they had no leads they decided to come here earlier. Right now, Professor Lincoln was being received as if she was a queen.
"Can we get you anything else, professor?"
"No, please treat me as a colleague and catch me up on your findings here."
Hearing the professor's request to be treated as an equal, Joey could swear that more than one of the men in lab coats was this close to passing out. Everyone greatly respected the emissaries of the Science Academy. They were the best and the brightest. What he hadn't considered was that, for other scientists, these were idols.
After an embarrassing few seconds of discussion over who would have the privilege of presenting their findings to the esteemed professor, one of the scientists finally started talking.
"Well, professor, our team was deployed when we heard of the incident. One of the first things we did was to test the health of the sirenians in the lake, trying to determine if the changes to the water were harmful to them."
"And?"
"The animals showed no signs of discomfort or stress. At the same time, we ran every type of test we could think of on the water."
"PH?"
"Normal."
"What about minerals and metals."
"All within the parameters."
"Nitrites and ammonia?" As Joey heard ammonia, he remembered what the Professor had said earlier, which worried him. She already had tested for that herself. She was scrambling.
"When we took one of the ranchers' sub to explore the lake, we discovered an erratic form of stratification."
"Clines."
"That's right."
"Did you test the different strata of the clines?"
"Yes."
"And...?"
"The only significant difference is the level of salinity. Some of the strata are salty, while the other is fresh."
She drummed her fingers. So far, everything checked out with their discoveries.
"Which brings us to Dr. Link's expedition..."
"Dr. Link wanted to travel deeper into the lake and see if the stratification differs. He also wanted to take samples of the water at different depths to see if there was something that we needed to include. He said that regardless of what he discovered, he'd return with some news today."
"Very well. In that case, let's wait. In the meantime, have you tested the soil around the lake?” The scientists exchanged looks. “No, we didn’t think of…”
“What about other animals?”
“Only the sea cows.”
“I want you to catch and quarantine every creature you can imagine. Brine shrimp, crabs, crayfish, mollies, alligators, and sharks. One of each. Focus on carnivores. They accumulate more toxins because they’re higher up in the food chain. I want to be told anything out of the ordinary.”
The scientists all got to work, grabbing nets, fishing poles and running toward small boats that were moored to the port. As for Joey, he grabbed a flask he had brought and poured himself some coffee. He’d wait for the boat to arrive and take it from there.
They waited the whole morning—the whole day. But Dr. Link never returned.
*
Geoffrey looked at the blank canvas before him and tried visualizing what he was about to paint. Today he'd woken up with a picture, a vision. It was a picture of a sinking ship, cleanly cut into two, like a piece of butter cut by a scorching knife.
There were no people in his vision. That part was necessary for this painting to work. For a moment, Geoffrey wondered why it would be important, but then the obvious answer came to him. Because whoever had done this hated casualties, of course. Casualties were the epitome of waste. Who was left to marvel at your accomplishments if a victory was fatal?
As Geoffrey started giving the painting a black coat of paint to give the painting some depth, the sound of a commotion outside disturbed him. Although the wall that led to the parlor was soundproof, the door to the corridor was not, and that's where the commotion seemed to be coming from.
"...demand to see him!"
"I'm sorry. I have to go check if he's available."
Geoffrey's eyes landed on the uninvited arrival as he arrived at the front desk. Although he had only occasionally greeted the man in passing, he recognized him immediately. "Mr. Ezekiel. What seems to be the matter?"
"You!" The man was in his face after a few large strides. "You poached all my best men! How dare you, Geoffrey?" As the man spoke, he didn't try to stop the spit from landing on Geoffrey's face, and he poked him with his finger blurring the line between a heated argument and a physical confrontation.
"Please, Mr. Ezekiel. Let's go into the office. We can talk this through over there."
"I won't have it, Geoffrey! I raised some of those men since they were little boys. I taught them everything! What gives you the right to come and take them away from me?" Mr. Ezekiel's shouts were only becoming louder. Debbie behind them had disappeared, maybe to go call some of the men in the estate to help manage the situation.
"Mr. Ezekiel, I don't understand why you're upset. Many of the men in the ranches have been coming to me lately complaining they had salary cuts or were dismissed. They asked me for a job. Should I in good conscience let those men go beg on the street when I can use their work in my estate?"
"You! You have a talent for twisting the facts. You disgust me. I have ears in the taverns too, Geoffrey. You don't think I haven't heard about the mysterious men going about the taverns offering millionaire salaries to the best men in the estates!" He'd been seen through. No matter. It was too late.
"Mr. Ezekiel, I don't understand why you're so upset with me. Just get new men to do the work."
"You know they are irreplaceable! It will take years to train new ones. Without them, my estate is working only at half-capacity."
Several men that worked in the parlors had appeared and were ready to step in if things started getting violent.
"Mr. Ezekiel. I'm sorry to hear about your troubles. Why don't you come in? Maybe we can come to some agreement."
"I hope you're thinking of letting my men come back and offer me proper compensation to offer me, Geoffrey!"
"Please, come in, and all will be sorted. But before that. Can I pour you a drink?"
*
"Did she stay behind in the camp?"
"Yes, sir. She took what was left of Dr. Link's crew to run an exploratory trip in one of the subs."
"What in the world could have happened to that ship?"
"I don't know, sir. Should we organize the rescue operation?"
"I don't know, Joey. It's all bizarre. There hasn't been a shipwreck in the lake in decades. The weather reports have also given no hint of a storm or anything that might precipitate this event. It is all so strange." Joey gulped. The sight of seeing Fabius clueless about what to do next was unsettling. He'd always been the confident commissioner who never faltered and was always sure about what to do next.
"So, what should we do?"
"For now, we're going to avoid spreading panic. I'll send word to the mayor's office. When the papers come to ask us about Dr. Link's expedition, we'll just give them the reports of the discovery of the clients that you were telling me about."
"Clines, sir." Fabius didn't give him the look, even after he corrected him. The world must be coming to an end, thought Joey.
"Clines. That way, without lying, we can draw people's attention away from the missing ship. That should buy us enough time to discover what happened to Dr. Link and his team." Joey moved uncomfortably in the seats. It didn't like the idea of lying to the public. But then, as he thought of the possibility of widespread chaos, he nodded in agreement.
"What else, sir?"
"Well, I think it's time to discover what's happening deep in the lake. I've already made provisions, Joey. Get the professor. The mayor has given us the albatross."
