Into Town

After another day's worth of rest, Colt was feeling as good as new. His wound had healed as well as it was going to, and wasn't really causing him too much pain anymore. He was sure he could get up and move around just fine, though the fisherman had insisted he remained in the bed for the entire day yesterday. All the sitting and laying around had made Colt antsy, and he couldn't wait to finally get up and about.

Neither could the fisherman, it seemed. As soon as Colt had woken up and eaten breakfast that morning, the old man had pulled up a chair and sat at the foot of his bed. He had evidently been thinking of all the things he'd get Colt to do, and he was ready to share the detailed itinerary.

"I go out fishing every morning," the fisherman started, tugging at his white facial hair, "that's when you'll do some chores around the shack. Dusting, sweeping, organizing, and whatnot. When I get back, I'd like you to place the fish in baskets and take them into town to sell. You'll also do some shopping and other tasks around town. You can get lunch somewhere in town too, if you like. I don't care how you spend your time after that, but dinner will be here when it starts to get dark. I may have some tasks for you before bed, but you'll have to check in with me about that."

Colt mulled this over in his head for a second, visualizing his schedule. "Okay," he said, "and what are you going to be doing when you get back from fishing?"

The old man leaned back and smiled a little. "I'm not completely sure. I'm usually busy all day, without any free time at all to worry about spending. I expect I'll take a nap after I get back from fishing, and then busy myself with making dinner after that. Who knows, maybe I'll even pick up a hobby or two."

"Yeah, well, don't get too used to it," Colt said. "As soon as I pay off what I owe, I'm out of here."

"Well until then..." the fisherman stood up and cleared his throat. He grabbed a broom leaning against the wall and extended it out to Colt. "Time to get to work."

Colt grabbed the broom and did as he was told. He began to slowly start tidying up the house while the fisherman prepared to leave. He worked fast and efficiently, even after the fisherman was gone. He'd been given a whole slate of morning tasks that he'd probably still be working on long after the old man got back from fishing. He didn't want to disappoint his caretaker, though, so he found himself working harder than he ever remembered working before. As he dusted off the tops of the cabinets and straightened the frames of the pictures on the walls, the thought occurred to him that he'd done more work in that morning than he'd done for years on the Bloody Manta. He wondered why. Was it because he had a reason to work, or because he had some respect for the person for whom he was working?

Or perhaps it was because his mind was on something else entirely. He had already figured out what his next move would be and had a whole day to think it through. He was going to help out the fisherman as much as he could for as long as he could, but Colt wasn't built to stay in one place for very long. He was quickly growing restless. He needed adventure, and he got the feeling that he wasn't going to find it under all this dust.

After a couple hours of work, Colt was drenched in sweat. He was feeling hot and tired, and he wanted more than anything to get out of the shack. So, after a couple more minutes of suffering, he concluded that he deserved a break.

He stepped outside of the shack and was met with cool, fresh air. He breathed it in and knew exactly what he was going to do. He pulled his tunic over his head and laid it down by the shore. He sat down, leaned his head back against the tunic, and stared up at the sky. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep completely.

The rest was nice, if not long. It felt as if as soon as Colt had closed his eyes he'd been jolted back awake again. He felt a splash of cold water hit him and he sat up straight. The fisherman was standing before him, back from his fishing trip, and had poured a bucket full of water on him.

Colt shivered and spluttered the water from his mouth. "I've been working!" he said instantly. "I was just checking to see if the sand right here was a good temperature, and then I was going to-"

"Save it," said the old man. "It's my turn to sleep now. Get all the fish together and sell them in town. Then pick up some potatoes and carrots for a stew I'm making tonight."

"Okay," Colt said, grabbing his tunic off the ground and shaking the sand off of it. "Do you mind if I run by--"

The fisherman waved his hand. "Go wherever you like, you're not a prisoner here. Just get those ingredients here while it's still light so I can start making dinner."

"Thanks old man," Colt said, "I'll get right on it."

"I said you could call me fisherman, not old man," said the old man, walking back into his shack.

Colt smiled and put his shirt back on. When he looked over at the old man's boat, however, his smile faded. There were mounds of fish stacked upon the boat, and only several small baskets to load them into. Would they even fit?

The answer turned out to be yes. Colt managed to load all the fish into the baskets, cramming them in wherever there was room. He was surprised they fit in the first place, and even more surprised that the fisherman was able to catch so many in a short amount of time. Maybe he had been right: it just takes a lot of practice. Colt was sure that he wouldn't be able to catch so many, and was glad the fisherman hadn't expected him to.

When he took a step back to admire his work, Colt ran into another problem. There were about half a dozen small baskets of fish that needed to be brought into town. He would only be able to carry two at a time, which would make for three trips into town. He wasn't sure how far he'd have to walk to get to where he was going, but he was sure he wasn't going to do it three times.

"That does sound most ineffective," the fisherman agreed when Colt went into the shack and brought up his problem.

"Is there a better way to carry them, like a bigger basket, maybe?"

"No, those are the biggest baskets I've got, I'm afraid."

Colt noticed that the old man didn't seem too terribly concerned. He was sitting on the cot, and looked like he was just about to fall asleep. Colt wondered if he would even be able to wake the man in time to cook dinner.

"Okay," Colt said. "So do you maybe want to give me a hand?"

The fisherman frowned. "I do not, no."

"These are your fish, you know, old man."

"Indeed, but it's not my task to get them into town." The fisherman laid down on the bed and closed his eyes peacefully. "I have full confidence in your ability to think of something. You'll definitely want to take it in one go, though."

"Yeah, thanks for all the help," Colt muttered.

He returned outside and stared at the baskets some more. He didn't even know why he cared so much if the old man didn't even seem to pay it any mind. But it was Colt's task, and he did owe the guy. So he decided he'd try something. He stacked up all the baskets on top of one another. Then he grabbed the bottom basket and lifted it up carefully. The stack of baskets wavered a little at first, but after a moment they were steady. Now that he had all of them together, Colt began his walk into town.

The journey was slow. Colt found himself wishing a couple of times that he'd just made three trips. He also wished that the fisherman lived closer to town, and not on the outskirts of the island. But then he never would have found Colt, so it was a good old win-lose situation.

When Colt finally did get into town, he was faced with even more challenges. He found that he couldn't see well past the stack of baskets in front of him, and couldn't find the shop he was supposed to head to. There were also tons of people around once he got closer to the center of the town area, and getting around them proved to be difficult.

Thankfully Colt managed not to knock anyone over. It took a long time, and it absolutely sucked, but eventually he reached his destination: The Fish Shop.

And yes, that was literally the name of the shop.

It was one of the smallest shops Colt had seen in the town, and it also seemed to have no markings at all other than the name, which didn't tell him much. It certainly seemed like the place to be, but in a town like this who knew how many fish shops there were? But then he noticed a small engraving on the side of the shop. He squinted in at it and was able to make out the symbols of two fish crossing over one another. Just what the old man had described.

"I expected it to be bigger," Colt muttered to himself as he observed the building.

He walked into the shop and was immediately met with the rotten smell of fish. Colt was rather used to this smell, as he'd been carrying around fish all day, but it was much stronger in the shop. Looking around he saw fish everywhere, on the floor, in baskets, on the walls. They were also all different assortment and sizes.

"What can I do for you, boy?" asked a man at the counter in the back.

Colt walked up to the man, who had gray hair and was wearing a slimy apron. He also had a hunched over back and eyes that looked almost crossed.

"I'm here to sell some fish," he said.

The man just looked at him blankly. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I sell fish, but I don't buy."

Colt raised his eyebrows. After all the time he had spent looking for this man, he didn't even want to buy the fish?

"You're Mr. Wilson, right?" Colt asked. The man nodded. "I don't understand, then. The fisherman said this was where I was supposed to come."

The shopkeeper blinked. "The fisherman? You're talking about the old man living in that shack by the shore?"

"Yeah," Colt nodded. "He sent me here to sell off these fish to you."

Mr. Wilson broke into a grin. "Well, why didn't you just say so? Come back here and place those baskets down. Let me just count out these notes right quick."

Colt brought the baskets to the back of the shop, setting them down behind the counter. It struck Colt that he didn't know how many notes to ask for, but Mr. Wilson seemed to have it covered. He counted through the paper money, then handed some over to Colt.

"That oughta do the trick," the man said. "Make sure you tell the fisherman that it was nice doing business with him as always."

"I'll do just that," Colt said as left the shop, finally free of the fish baskets.

Once outside, he referred back to his mental to-do list. He needed to pick up some ingredients and get back to the fisherman's place in time for him to cook dinner. Colt didn't know exactly when that was, but the old man had made it clear that he was free to explore the town a little while he was out. And so he shall. He'd get the ingredients and supplies at some point, but first he needed to make an important stop. He needed to pay a visit to the Authority.