Sunday, December 11, 2011

Trapped In Skorrgatory


Chapter 5




            Once again the agonizing pain had been removed and Stephen was back to the same black speckled screen. He felt small and insignificant in the vast nothingness of dark fuzziness. It was like at night when all the programs have ended and you are left with nothing but dark static. It completely engulfed him and was magnified 1000 times over. He started to feel lost and confused. It was as though he was one of the billion speckles. There was nothing to taste. There was nothing to smell. There was nothing to feel except that he was an individual cell that made up a living organism. It occurred to him that this is what scientist has described as being left over substance from the Big Bang. So, this was how his life and death would always be, part of a big bang.
          “How depressing” he thought but he still couldn’t help but marvel at the wondrously magnificent sight before him. Despite his lack of senses, he could see and hear quite well. He heard a click in the distance and knew the viewing of his next life was about to begin. He would also be ready this time because he wanted to know who he really was and what details he could get from his former lives. It was apparent that karma had taken over and placed him on a wheel. At least that is how things seemed. He would have to ride the wheel. That is the only way to move on.
          The melting of the vast backdrop had begun only this time there was no green. It started out as gray. Moments later he could make out metal castings. No, it was pots and pans. The walls had been metal though. Stephen could feel a slight humming vibrating through the floor. He was in a kitchen but where was he? At first it looked as if all the pots and pans had been cleaned and put away for the night. At least that’s what he though until he saw the mound of dishes piled up over by a large sink. His hear sank.

          “You’ve got to be kidding! They’re going to stick me on cleanup duty!” Stephen felt the now familiar brush of life as he was getting passed through once again. He grabbed the opportunity to fully relive and held on to the figure. He wanted all of his senses back. There had been no fighting of the merger. The man he once was didn’t even realize that he was there or what was going on. As soon as their thoughts became one, he could feel the resentment and anger bellowing up inside.
          He was private Stevens aboard the USS Maine. The time and date was 9:30 at night on February 15, 1896. Their orders had been to sail to Havana Harbor just off the coast of Cuba to keep an eye on things. The day at least started out good. Private Stevens and a few of the other sailors had decided to play a prank on one of their officers just to liven things up a bit. It was a harmless prank. Stevens dressed up one of the snappers in a makeshift naval uniform to try and cheer him up. He even made sure the fish would be smiling at him when the cover to his plate was removed. They had all heard it was the officer’s birthday and they just wanted a little laugh. The man was depressed because his wife would be giving birth any time and he had to be out to sea.
          The officer wasn’t impressed. As a matter of fact he got downright pissed off. As a result of their practical joke, private Stevens had been given kitchen duty since he was the one who made and delivered it. Oh well, at least he didn’t have to tend to the hot boiler room like the others who had been caught laughing.  He at least had been smart enough to read the offended officers face. As a cook, Stevens had learned to read peoples faces. It was a necessity since they will lie sometimes to keep from upsetting you. It was also a safety hazard since you work in dismal conditions and around disgruntled men with sharp knives.
   
          Unfortunately, he was now faced with a pile of dishes from 355 men aboard a 12 inch thick nickel steel monster floating off the coast of enemy territory. Thank God she was water tight and well stocked with torpedoes and other necessary ammunition. The pungent stench of old fish caused him to gag and inadvertently spit up a small amount of bile. It could get stiflingly hot in the mess hall, especially when they were cooking. The ventilation system had been no where near as efficient at modern kitchen ventilation. Air conditioning systems hadn’t even been invented yet.
          Remembering time was short, Stephen tried to look for a reflective surface to see what he looked like as a sailor. There wasn’t much. Steel and copper lay all around him in varying forms but it was dark and corroded from too many nights on a hot stove. Searching through Private Stevens mind he found out that he was one of the cooks aboard the USS Maine. It made sense, otherwise how would he have been able to gain access to the officer’s snapper. He felt young and agile. He also felt the sting of a cut on his right hand when the knife had slipped earlier in the day while cleaning fish. It had not been cleaned properly and was now turning red and showing the first signs of infection. His crew mates teased him about the way he tried to filet a puffer fish earlier. It was a random catch in the nets. Another crew member tried to show them how to remove most of the toxic parts but al he did was to make it look like a chopped up lump of flesh.
          While eyeing the mess, he wasn’t spooked by the creaking and moaning of the vessel. It didn’t even bother him that he was the only one in the kitchen since everyone else had retired to their quarters for the night. With the exception of a few guards posted on the deck and the snickering sailors down in the boiler room everyone else was in bed. The thing that spooked him was the rumbling under his feet and the resounding boom. It wasn’t a band it was a boom. It was also accompanied by the ripping and tearing of metal. It felt and sounded as if the whole ship was coming apart.
           His head was spinning as he was knocked off balance. There was a blinding flash and the pain that shot through his lungs was intense. During the explosion, he had accidentally fallen onto some jagged piping that had broken loose and stuck up through the floor. It hurt to breath and he realized that water was pouring in rapidly. As he lay injured with a pipe sticking out of his chest, he knew what was coming. He would die there. Most seasoned sailors would opt to swim to the bottom and give up their ghost but he was pinned down by a mass of filthy pots and pans. He could hear the metal grinding and jerking beneath and around him.  All of the lights had gone out. A fire had started in the far corner of the kitchen illuminating everything in an eerie glow. The risk of another explosion would do him in for sure. He also assumed that he would be consumed by sharks while still alive if he somehow managed to get out of his stainless steel prison. It was a shuddering thought and there was only moments to act before the water would steal his precious breath and consume him in the murky depths.
          Then it came to him. The answer literally floated right in front of him. It was the dead puffer fish that had been snagged in the nets along with the snapper.  The trash can that it was in was never emptied and there it lay floating right in front of him. He had never tried puffer fish but had heard of how dangerous they could be if it wasn’t prepared right. Their toxins would subdue him in moments. He quickly scooped up the previously gutted fish and tore into its flesh with his teeth.
           It was only slightly unpleasant once you got past the smell since it lay there all evening without being chilled. His lips immediately felt numb. He took another bite and swallowed. His skin started to feel prickly and numbness was setting in. He did not know if it was the fish or the cold water trying to paralyze his reflects and he didn’t care. The water is up to his chest by now. His puncture wound stings harshly as salt water licks at the puncture wound. In the dimming artificial light he glimpses his own blood darkening the water around his chest. He takes another bite and swallows. He can no longer feel the fish and it drops from his hand with a slight splat. Then everything is dark once again.
          “Seems that I was something of a comedian and a trouble maker during the Spanish American War of 1898 and there was no real purpose there. The sinking of the USS Maine is supposed to have started the war. There was no honor in this! There is only tragedy and two countries arguing over who sunk the battleship. Yea, that war was nothing but a game of who sunk the battleship.”





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