Vladimir Todorov - Archipelago N.Y. - Flynn

The Seeker was now approaching the huge fishing nets lined along the lower end of the Archipelago. These contraptions were based on an old Chinese design and looked like the giant skeletons of prehistoric birds, dipping their long bones into the water. Fashioned out of broken up electricity poles, traffic lights and long rusty pipes, swathed in miles of netting, they had proven to be a very reliable method of catching fish. It was the Asians who had completely taken over the fishing industry on the Archipelago, their nets forming a big semi-circle around the entire Lower Side. There were other fishermen, of course, who went chasing the big fish, like tuna, swordfish, marlin and shark… But they were specialty catchers, moving around alone on their rafts and boats, not organized in large groups like the Asians. The same could be said of the sealers and whalers. Catching big fish was unreliable, though. And very often, these fishermen would return home empty handed, after having spent days and sometimes weeks out on the water. The everyday fish trade belonged to the Asians. No one remembered when and how it had happened, but they were the only ones permitted to fish in large quantities and so close to the shores of the Archipelago.

The nets were being lifted out of the water now. Their supporting scaffolds were screeching under the weight of the day’s catch. Flynn saw the thrashing mass of fish that was being dumped onto the large floating platforms. The place was buzzing with activity. Water vessels of various shapes and sizes floated around the platforms, waiting to be loaded. Hundreds of squawking seagulls blackened the sky, circling above them all. Some were brave enough to dive down to the nets in an attempt to steal a piece of herring or mackerel. Those birds were swiftly speared by the assigned Seagull Catchers, always ready and waiting with their deadly harpoons.

Suddenly, Flynn pulled the steering rudder towards him and turned the raft in the direction of the nets. Tony sat up in his seat, puzzled by the swift change in movement. “What are you doing?” He rubbed his eyes and glanced around to get his bearings.

“How about some fresh fish for dinner?” Flynn asked with a big grin on his face.

“You crazy, amigo?” Tony was wide awake now. “The place is crawling with Security Guards… Especially at this time of day.”

“Hey, it’s not like we haven’t done it before, right?”

Flynn positioned the Seeker directly behind one of the cargo boats leaving the dockside wharves. The fish were being processed on the spot by the skilled Asian fishermen. Skinned and deboned, the fillets were taken by boats, like the one Flynn was now following. Their final destination: the Fish House on Lower Manhattan’s former Meat District. The skin and bones were then ferried to other processing facilities and made into clothes, shoes, glue and pigeon food. Nothing was ever wasted on the Archipelago. Everything was recycled and used again and again… And all that dirty work was carried out on the Lower Side, of course.

“Too risky, I think!” Tony tried to reason with his friend. “We can always get some fish at the Floating Market.”

“Yeah, like tails and fins! All the good stuff is going straight to the Upper Side. You know that.”

“Well…”

“Do you want to eat fish steak tonight, or not?” Flynn was getting angry. “’Cause I am!”

“Yes, but…”

“Hold the rudder for me,” said Flynn. “Stay right behind that boat and pedal. Don’t get too close. I won’t be long.” Flynn rolled off the seat and quietly slipped into the water. Briefly, he swam alongside the raft. Then, taking a deep breath, he dived under it and disappeared from view.

Following Flynn’s instructions, Tony started to pedal slowly. The sun was setting and the sky was turning a dark shade of orange, making it harder for Tony to see in the dusky light. He tried to keep his eyes focused on the boat in front, now heading toward Broadway Canal. Several men, wearing large brimmed coolie hats, were busy working around the barrels full of fish meat.

A lone Security Guard, armed with a spear gun, stood at the back of the boat. To Tony’s dismay, the man had a holstered handgun on his belt, too.

For a long moment the guard stood still, then his head jerked, and he pointed his spear gun down at something floating in the water. Tony strained his eyes and saw Flynn’s head bobbing up and down next to the boat. The guard’s spear was pointing straight at his friend. Tony froze in his seat, his heart pounding… Flynn was going to get in trouble this time! Most guards were corrupt and easy to bribe… But every now and then, there would be someone who would stick to the rules. Would this guard arrest Flynn, or shoot him on the spot? With no way of knowing, Tony closed his eyes, praying for his friend’s safety. He couldn’t bear to watch Flynn being speared through the head, dying for a piece of fish!

A long moment passed before Tony opened his eyes again, expecting the worst… only to see the guard now leaning over the side of the boat, his weapon shouldered. It appeared as if he was talking to Flynn… Then the guard reached down and dipped his hand in the water. It emerged seconds later, holding a large plastic bottle. The man tucked it quickly under his uniform’s jacket. He then walked over to the barrels and came back, handing something over to Flynn. The boy’s head disappeared instantly under water.

Tony breathed a sigh of relief and stopped pedaling. His fear was quickly turning into anger now… They had lucked out again… No, Flynn had lucked out again! He was the one always taking risks… but sooner or later, Flynn would run out of luck…. things would go wrong, and then it would be too late… Tony shook his head, pushing that awful thought away. He knew he wasn’t really angry at Flynn. He was mad at himself… Deep down, Tony wished he was more like Flynn… reckless and carefree… not giving a damn about anything. But there was also a selfish streak to Flynn, and that was beginning to bother Tony. Of course, he knew that most people on the Archipelago were like that, too… Selfish!… At least the ones who survived the best were. Tony, unfortunately, wasn’t one of them.

Just as the boat ahead disappeared down Broadway Canal, Flynn emerged with a splash out of the water. He pulled himself back on the raft, holding two grimy plastic bags. “Here!” he said triumphantly, handing one to Tony. “Your mom’s going to be happy!”

The tempting smell of fresh sea bass hit Tony’s nose, but he was too upset with his friend to care. “You crazy idiot!” he cried, glaring at Flynn. “I thought the guy was gonna take your brains out!”

“Hah!” Flynn rolled his eyes at those words. He then popped his ears to drain the water out and sat next to Tony. “I know how to deal with these cone heads.”

Tony stared at his friend¸ not sure whether to punch him or to give him a hug. “What did you tell him, amigo?”

“Said it’s my birthday today!” laughed Flynn and took the steering rudder from Tony.

“Is it?”

“Just kidding… I gave him a gallon of spring water from my stash.”

Tony was shaking his head again in disapproval.

“What? You think it’s too much?” Flynn cocked an eyebrow. “Told you there’s plenty of the stuff down where we went today… We’ll scavv for more of that water tomorrow, don’t worry.”

“I ain’t coming with you tomorrow!”

“C’mon, Tony! Don’t be like that,” said Flynn, frowning. “I got you the inhalers. You’ll be fine.”

Tony avoided his gaze. “I’m not feeling well, Flynn!” he mumbled under his breath.