Art:AADM/Second round/A Familiar Plan
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The Short
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Death came in the guise of a parrot. | 
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A Familiar Dilemma (Bulwer-Lyttony) | ||
The Entry
Death came in the guise of a parrot. It was a gaudy bird, whose green and yellow feathers served vanity's purpose more than anything else. Behind its eyes lurked a knowledge that may not have warranted the cliché "fiercely intelligent," but perhaps merited at least "marginally sentient." It was, in fact, this somewhat-dazed look that made the parrot such an unexpected harbinger of death.
The fateful parrot itself was, at that moment, perched on the shoulder of a haggard man, seated in a dank room which rocked back and forth with the motions of the waves below it. His face was gaunt and unshaven, but behind his eyes lay a cunning significantly greater than that of his parrot. He stirred and sat up as the wooden door swung upon its rusted hinges, which gave out a metallic cry of protest.
"Get up," shot out a voice sternly. At this, the man grunted and slowly got to his feet. The door opened wider, and an imposing man stepped through, his eyes trained firmly on the prisoner. "Come on. And leave that stupid parrot there."
"The name is Joel. And," he replied icily, "The bird stays with me." At this, the man's expression turned grim. He paused for a moment, and then chuckled, his face breaking into a grin. "Well all right then, Joel. The name's Henry. Let's go for a walk."
As they strolled out to the deck, Joel asked sullenly where he was taken, but received no response. A far cry from the somber brig, the deck of the ship was bathed in sun. Men scurried about the ship, some working, some just searching for their next source of entertainment. Joel took in a deep breath, glad to be out of his confined space. Henry kept up a quick pace, and stopped at the side of the ship, where he propped his hands up on the rail and gazed out across the ocean. Joel did likewise, and let out a sigh. "Are you going to tell me why you've been treating me like a prisoner, or are we just going to continue to pretend that nothing's happening?"
"Come now, Joel. We haven't been treating you like a prisoner. We've just been taking certain precautions. And considering the circumstances we found you in, I feel like we've been downright generous to you."
"Generous?" Joel scoffed, and turned to face Henry. "You've been holding me in the brig for almost three days now, with precious little food or water. I've told you my story already. I was a fisherman. There was a storm. I was forced to abandon ship in our only dinghy. I wasn't creeping around your ship at night, I was trying to hail you and get rescued. I still don't understand why you're so suspicious. I haven't done anything!"
"Ah, Joel. You and I both know that isn't true. You know why you were there. I know why you were there. Let's not beat around the bush."
"Please. I only want to get home. I don't know what you want."
"There's no reason to play coy. You're not the only one who's ever been caught, you know. It's not as though there aren't people out there who want to get their hands on what we have."
"What you have?" Joel's eyes opened wide. "What's that?"
"Gold. And lots of it. But of course, that should be no surprise to you." Henry grinned slyly and winked at Joel, as if sharing a secret that both of them already knew.
"Gold? But that means that you're…you're…" He stuttered, confused.
"Yes, Joel. Pirates. Now, can we cut out the charade?"
Thrown back in the brig, Joel was left again in the half-light of his cell to ponder his conversation with Henry. It certainly explained quite well why they were so suspicious of him. Pirates! They certainly weren't what one expected to find out on the seas, but Joel had to admit that, so far, they had been somewhat decent to him. It could be worse. He got up and walked to the door, pulling on the handle. It was, of course, locked. He kicked hard at the door, but it didn't move an inch. Just his luck to be stuck aboard the one pirate ship with sturdy carpentry. His parrot let out a low caw. "I know, mate. I know. Soon enough, soon enough."
But a week came and went without much of a change. Joel began to receive better food, and was occasionally let out on deck, but always under supervision. However, something brought about a change. What it was that changed their minds, Joel never did find out, but he was thankful for it. At the end of the week, Henry opened the door and entered, smiling. "Alright, Joel. You've got your wish. Sleep where you wish, go where you wish, and eat with the crew. You're free- on one condition. Stay on board. But I don't think that's too harsh. After all, you've got not place to go!" Henry chuckled, a glint in his eye. "Of course, if you want to brave the open waters, I can't stop you jumping overboard- but I'd be disappointed."
Joel smiled. "I'm glad you finally trust me. I'll try not to let you down, huh? Besides, the water would probably be a bit chilly." Henry laughed, and shut the door behind me as he left- this time, unlocked. Joel beckoned to his parrot, who fluttered over and landed on his shoulder. "I told you it wouldn't be that long. Patience is key. We're halfway there."
Being a pirate, Joel reflected, was somewhat like being a fisherman, but without the fishing. It wasn't too hard- he already knew how to sail, and every ship they'd encountered so far had surrendered without returning fire. He had yet to view first-hand the gold that Henry had spoke about, but he knew that it was increasing steadily. The life, thought Joel, was not only easy, it could get downright boring at times. One starry night, he wandered the deck, his parrot perched atop his shoulder, taking in the sights that he was able to comprehend.
Passing in front of the bridge, Joel heard voices conversing in low, urgent tones. He crouched down, and moved closer, just to the side of the door. From within, he heard two men speaking. "But we need to move quickly. It's two days until we're within reach of the shore. The guy, what's his name? He's scared of us. He'll do what we say. We give him a week, scout it out. If he doesn't do it, we'll have to use one of our own. And I don't want to chance that."
"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Hold on a second, alright?" The voices stopped, and the door flung open. Joel, crouched on the ground, gazed up helplessly at a pair of stern eyes as his parrot's eyes blinked, unconcerned. "You weren't exactly supposed to hear that, mate. Come inside, let's talk."
Several minutes later, the officer who had confronted Joel stood looking on as Henry wrapped up his speech. "So, you see, it's not really an offer. You will go ashore, and you will scout it out for us. You can try to run, but you won't make it far. Our reach is more vast than you can imagine. But if you do this for us, I'm sure we can arrange to award you handsomely. Savvy?" Joel nodded apprehensively. "Great. Well, then. Two days. Enjoy your time." Suddenly, Henry slumped, throwing his hand onto a nearby table to stabilize himself. "Alright there, Henry?" asked Joel as the officer rushed to Henry's aid. Henry nodded weakly, and slid down into a chair. "I'm…I'm fine. Just a headache." He placed his hand on his forehead and winced.
"Well, I hope you feel better. I'll see you later." Joel walked out slowly and shut the door softly behind him, his face turning into a sly grin as he exited the room. It couldn't have worked out any better, he thought. If they wanted him to go ashore for a week, without an objection. It wasn't so much that he wanted the week ashore. But the return to the ship would be so much sweeter for the time away. Absence truly does make the heart grow fonder, he reflected.
With a spring in his step and nervous anticipation coursing through his body, the next two days went by like a blur for Joel. He did his duties without question, hardly connected to reality. On the second day, in the crow's nest, he was startled from his reverie by a voice from behind him. "You alright there, mate?"
"Yeah, yeah. Fine." Joel rubbed his eyes and brought himself back to reality.
"Well, stay awake. You're no good to us if you're so careless you couldn't spot an approaching armada!" Afraid of rousing more suspicion, Joel paid closer attention to his watch for the rest of the day. As night approached, the order came to lower the sails and drop anchor. They were within a rowboat's reach of shore.
With a final word to Henry, Joel climbed into the rowboat and was lowered down into the water. Freedom! He pulled hard on the oars, moving quickly away from the ship. With once last glance back at the ship, he spied, perched on a railing, his parrot. He shot off a quick salute, and turned back to his rowing, the shoreline becoming clearer and clearer.
Joel was determined to enjoy his week ashore. After all, he did have a bit of hard work yet to accomplish. It was funny, he reflected. Had anyone observed him, he might as well have been completing the task that he was charged with. From local taverns to shops and the rest of the town, Joel completed what would have been an entirely satisfactory survey of the terrain for the pirate crew. The fact that he spent a large part of it drunk wasn't far different from the result that the pirates would have received by sending any one of their own.
Nearing the end of his week, Joel, as he had already done several times that day, stepped into a tavern. Upon his entrance, the bartender's eyes fell upon him and his face lit up. "Joel, mate! Good to see ya!" Joel laughed and sat down at the bar. Drinking and chatting, they whiled away the time. As he downed the last of his rum, Joel spoke sadly. "Well, I've got to get going."
"Yeah," replied the bartender, with a knowing glint in his eyes. "Same old story, huh?"
"Like always," said Joel, smiling.
"So there's a ship out there, is there? Or have you moved on to armadas?"
"No, there's a ship."
"Those poor, poor fools." The bartender winked as Joel chuckled and made his way out of the bar, into the chill night air. His week was up, and he had work to do.
At the docks, he got into the rowboat and made one last check of his supplies. A sword lay sheathed on his belt, and a pistol sat next to it. It might be overkill, he reflected, but one could never be too careful. Joel mentally checked off the rest of his supplies and pushed off the dock. The wind nipped at his fingers as he pulled the oars again and again, gliding smoothly over the water.
He couldn't help but to laugh. The arrogance it reflected was a part of him he didn't always like, and he tried to suppress it, but he laughed nonetheless. They never, ever see it coming, he mused. It wasn't entirely their fault, he knew. Even after their fate was sealed, most never figured out what was going on.
He had received several vials of the virus from a man who had earlier tried to kill him, as payment for his services- but that was another story entirely. It had served him incredibly well, thought Joel. The strain of smallpox was both particularly deadly and extremely rapid. Though inoculation was unpleasant, he had gotten it over with relatively quickly. After that, no amount of the virus would ever be able to harm him. The one downside was that it was much more difficult than it would seem to infect a large amount of people with a virus. The particular strain he had received required direct contact, and people tended to be suspicious if the only people who became sick were those who had just had contact with a stranger who appeared under mysterious circumstances.
Joel chuckled again. That was where the brilliance of the plan lay. Not only did the particular strain carry all those other characteristics, it also carried one more, the most useful of all. In psittaciformes, the virus lay entirely dormant, not dying, but causing no harm to the host. Psittaciformes- an order of species that, conveniently, contained parrots. Death, indeed, came in the guise of a parrot- and no one ever saw it coming.
The ship was now in his sights. He rarely expected survivors, but those who did survive were always so weak that they didn't take much effort to deal with. He glanced down at his sword and, pained, pulled his eyes back to the ship. In the end, he was sorry for the loss of life. But he justified it by telling himself that pirates had no respect for human life anyways. In any event, the fact that Henry was already experiencing splitting headaches by the time he left told him that he probably wouldn't be dealing with survivors.
With thoughts of the gold piled into the hold swimming around his head, he drew his boat up alongside the pirate's ship, once bustling, now silent and somber. Throwing a grappling hook over the railing, he easily hauled himself onto the deck, smiling. From somewhere across the deck, the cry of a parrot sounded out, piercing the night air with a sound that filled Joel's heart with joy. He had never named it, but in the end, he really did like the thing. Even if it wasn't all that bright.
