PodCastle 418: James and Peter, Fishing - a podcast by Escape Artists, Inc

* Author : Anaea Lay

* Narrator : Thomas Busby

* Host : Graeme Dunlop

* Audio Producer : Peter Wood

*

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PodCastle 418: James and Peter, Fishing is a PodCastle original.





Rated PG-13

James and Peter, Fishing

by Anaea Lay

James’s boots clanked against the dock planks as he strode out over the water. It was a quiet morning, the sun just breaking over the horizon, the water lapping gently against the dock supports. The loudest noises were the creaks of his ship shifting slightly in the gentle breeze. James took a deep breath, smelling salt and fish, and reminded himself that this was another morning in hell.

He settled down on the end of the dock, his tackle box to one side, his pail to the other. His prosthetic glinted in the morning light as he readied his fishing rod and selected his favorite lure. As he cast off, he spotted Peter at the horizon, late as usual.



Ten minutes later the sprightly boy alighted on the dock next to James, his own fishing rod and tackle box in hand. His face was bleary; traces of sleep clung to the edges of his eyes. James said nothing. This world might be unchanging, but he did not have to endlessly comment on it.

Peter caught a fish right away though James had seen no sign of any prey. It was always so. The mermaids followed Peter and brought fish to his line. They would sit there all morning while Peter caught fish after fish and James reeled in seaweed. The crocodile would arrive around noon, when they broke for lunch.

“Last week was fun,” Peter said mid-morning.

“I’m sure,” James said.

“You’ve mended the sails already?”

Earlier that week, James had kidnapped the mermaid princess and trapped her in a tank suspended from the rigging of his ship. He’d felt oppressed by the weight of another day fishing with Peter, another piece of this alleged paradise conspiring against him. It was a futile gesture. Of course Peter would fly through the rigging, buzzing the crew like a rabid bat before shredding his sails and sending the lovingly crafted tank shattering against the deck. James could have killed the mermaid princess right then as she writhed amidst the mess of broken glass and metal, suffocating in the humid afternoon air, but what was the point? She was meant to be immortal. She belonged here. She was a victim of Peter’s thrall every bit as much as James.

That was the thought that raged through him as he flung the mermaid from his deck, leaving her to crash back into the ocean and flee with bruised fins and torn scales. They were all Peter’s victims. Co-prisoners. Compatriots. Hurting them was just persecuting a fellow victim. James stood at his deck railing, watching the ripples in the surface that marked the mermaid’s flight, and wept. Peter didn’t notice; he was distracted with shredding the sails.

“They’re nearly mended,” James said.

“I think I’ll take the boys for a pow wow with the Indians next week,” Peter said.

It was an instruction. James would have to kidnap Tiger Lily. He’d demand some ransom of her father. Come to think of it, he could use a resupply of his tobacco stores. Or he could break the pattern, leave the Indian chief’s daughter alone and attack Peter directly. If they descended on the camp at dusk, could they catch Peter while he was distracted with his games and finally free the island of him? Certainly not, but it would be something different. A respite, as it were,

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