Chapter 5
Day ten began the same as every other day.
Dawson had begun keeping a diary for something to do.
The soldiers had changed twice, so the ones in the field were five new soldiers.
But they kept the same routine as the others, sending two off to collect water and one off to gather firewood every morning.
The big, shaggy cows sometimes wandered over, but otherwise nothing changed.
It had rained once. Like everyone else, Dawson had grabbed his soap and run outside for an impromptu shower.
It has been well worth standing out in the cold just to feel clean again.
That had been three days ago, and while they had also filled up water bottles and pots and pans, water was once again becoming a problem.
Word had gone around that management planned on making an announcement.
They needed to say something because everyone was far too aware that no resupply was coming, and even though rations had been reduced, food was running out.
They couldn’t continue to pretend there was no way for them to go, or that rescue was only days away. Given the things he had seen online, Dawson figured that help was months away, and helicopters wouldn’t be sent. It was more likely to be a ship.
He checked the time and then made his way to the mess, where the meeting was going to be held at shift change.
Everyone was grumbling about the way management was acting as though everything was normal.
Dawson agreed with most of the workers that they didn’t need to be working twelve-hour days; most of them didn’t need to be working at all.
It wasn’t as though the platform was ever going to be taken to a new location.
But if the cooks and cleaners had to work, it wasn’t fair if everyone else sat around watching TV.
And while he enjoyed having something to do, like everyone else, the situation was starting to grate and tempers were fraying.
It was another reason to volunteer to go down to the island if given half a chance.
It was standing room only in the mess. And there were plenty of complaints about the food, the work, and the lack of communication.
Dawson kept his mouth shut. He listened, but he didn’t want to be caught up in it.
He’d learned young that whining only got him a smack in the mouth.
And while the smack may not be physical, he didn’t need a black mark against his name.
The man in charge of the platform, Mr. Healy, made his way through the crowd and stepped onto a chair. Everyone hushed without being asked.
“I know the last ten days haven’t been easy, and I wish I had better news, but the company has decided that, for the moment, we are safer where we are.
While they’ve told us to exercise caution, they have told us to do what is needed to survive.
I’ve sought advice about the island and its inhabitants, but given that everywhere is in the same situation with these mythological beings, no one has any answers.
I think everyone is aware there are soldiers watching us, however, given that they have not attacked and that there are only five of them, I am assuming it is a greeting party. ” Mr. Healy looked at his notes.
Grumbles filled the air again as people complained about the soldiers, the company, and everything else.
“It was suggested that we send five people as our own greeting party. From what I have gathered, these people don’t speak our language, and we don’t speak theirs. I’m hoping that we can find a way to communicate and perhaps trade for food.”
“And who’s going to be dumb enough to go down there?” one of the older men shouted.
Others joined in pointing out that the soldiers were armed.
Someone added that they were literal monsters.
Which Dawson didn’t think was fair, after all, they’d been going about their island life only to find it suddenly in the wrong world.
Maybe the mythological beings thought they were the monsters…
except that some of the guards were human.
“It has been decided that one supervisor and four volunteers will go. I will not force anyone. And I did cop some shit for that decision from my bosses, who are safely on land.”
A few people laughed, but it was good that Mr. Healy was standing up for the people stuck on the platform.
“So, does any supervisor volunteer?”
“Why can’t management go?” someone on the other side of the room, who Dawson couldn’t see, shouted.
It made no sense to send management when they were liaising with their counterparts in England. From what Dawson had seen online, things were messy everywhere.
An engineer raised his hand. “I’ll go. It’s not like we’re pumping oil, anyway.”
Dawson didn’t want to raise his hand too fast, but at the same time, he didn’t want to miss his chance.
It’s not like he had a specialized job. He did the painting or whatever else he was told to do.
Though he did prefer being outside and doing the painting, so he was hoping to make that his full-time job… assuming he ever got the chance.
A medic raised her hand, and Mr. Healy nodded. It was a good idea to have a medic on the team. With two spots taken, Dawson lifted his hand.
One of the cleaners and a kitchen hand also volunteered.
“Thank you. If the five of you could come with me, we’ll have a meeting to discuss.” He jumped off the chair, and Dawson and the others followed Mr. Healy out of the mess and into a meeting room.
They sat around the table as if this were a normal meeting. Sure, he saw the guy who ran the platform around, but they didn’t speak.
He knew the medic, Katrina, in passing, and the kitchen hand, Joe, he saw at most meals.
Brett, the engineer, worked the opposite shift, so he only ever saw him at the changeover, and the same for Matt, the cleaner.
It was a weird assortment of people. And he wondered about their reasons for volunteering.
Were they curious? Or did they want off the platform?
“Thank you for volunteering. I was worried no one would.” Mr. Healy glanced at his papers again.
“No one knows what you will face on the island, but we are hoping for food and water. I’m sure we can figure out some kind of trade deal with them once we have figured out a way to communicate.
However, without further rain, we will be out of water soon. ”
Dawson nodded. Everyone was well aware of the water situation. “So we go down tomorrow morning with some buckets and play a game of charades?”
Mr. Healy gave him a grim smile. “Yes. Exactly.”
Brett leaned back and crossed his arms. “Any ideas on how we’re supposed to communicate with them?”
“No. No one has given me any guidance, and I’m sure you’ve been following the news the same as everyone else,” Mr. Healy said.
“I’ve read a report where the scientists claimed they collapsed the mythological world into ours by accident. Is that true?” Katrina rested her elbows.
“I saw that too,” Dawson said. He’d also seen the violence both from humans and from the mythological people. But the soldiers hadn’t attacked, only watched and waited.
Which meant they were waiting for them to do something.
“That seems to be the case,” Mr. Healy said. “This island appeared out of nowhere. We have confirmed that we did not move.”
What did it matter if they had or hadn’t moved? The fact was, they were stuck on the platform with no help arriving anytime soon.
“The company has asked that you sign these waivers before you leave the platform. Please take your time to read through them, and if you change your mind, let me know. Otherwise, if you agree, you will descend at eight tomorrow morning. If you were due to work tonight, you have the night off.”
Dawson stared at the two-page document. While he wasn’t a lawyer, it seemed to be a statement that they were volunteering and that they understood it was dangerous.
It was a cover your ass for the company, even though they needed someone to volunteer, or everyone was going to die on the platform.
A few fights had already broken out as tensions rose.
Dawson would rather take his chances on the ground. He signed the paper and pushed it toward Mr. Healy. “I will be ready at eight.”