15

The Sun Doesn't Reach The Seabed

Atticus takes more time than usual to get up in the morning. He rolls out of bed slowly, the sun still below the horizon, but a dim light begins to glow in the east. In the past couple of days, the skies have cleared somewhat, but the air is still warm and saturated with fog from the sea. The open window doesn’t help with the stagnant air, unfortunately, but the people of the city are accustomed to the climate and it makes no difference in Atticus’s morning routine; his slow movements are the result of nerves for the upcoming day.
He digs through the refrigerator and cabinets for something edible to bring down the hall. He notes that the extra humidity has caused some of his food to mold quicker this week, or have they been there longer? He’s lost track of time lately and his appetite has been meager; the surplus of food being evidence of that. He resists the urge to smoke and takes a bruised apple instead, eating it on his way to the radio station several doors down.
The room is dark and the silhouette of the gear strewn about his desk almost takes the shape of Lenny, that day he found the man face down on the surface. Atticus quickly finds the light switch and drops half the apple, uneaten, into a trash bin next to his desk before sitting. The lights flicker and Atticus slides his headset on before the ominous silence can eat at him any longer.
“Mornin’ Seatac. Another week’s gone by and here we are, a bunch of fish still chasing after baitless hooks in the bay. Here’s a relevant song, ‘every day is a game,’ because what better than some synth dreamcore to drag you out of your sweet dreams from the night and into the reality of the day. At least the sun will shine on us today.” Atticus selects the song on a half-dead device and mutes his mic.
He doesn’t speak much as the morning goes on, allowing for people to wake up and gathering his thoughts to mentally prepare for the long day. Once the sun is up and the fog clears out of the canals, Atticus shuffles a playlist and heads down to the docks. He watches several gondolas pass by, none of which manned by Trevor, and decides not to wait any longer, flagging down the next one he sees.
A stout, brown-skinned woman adeptly steers the boat up to Atticus, standing at the edge of the dock. He puts on a friendly smile and greets her, but doesn’t board the craft.
“You going somewhere or not, friend?” She’s polite, but makes it clear she has a job to do.
“I’m not going anywhere but,” he reaches as far as he can to hand her a thick wad of cash and food slips, “I’ve got a couple of friends downstream that could use a ride up here.”
Her eyes widen at the amount of money she takes from him, “Yes, of course, who is it and where do I need to go?”
Atticus explains the location of the Mattern home, deep in the low end, and gives a description of Sunny and George, “Sunny’s smile paired with his hair makes him about as bright as his name indicates, hard to miss.”
She nods in understanding as he speaks and then smiles before taking leave. Knowing it could take an hour or so, Atticus turns to head back upstairs. He’s not startled when he sees Dimitri waiting for him at the bottom of the fire escape stairs.
“Good morning, Di, you’re earlier than usual.” He doesn’t stop when he meets her, instead leading the way up the stairs, knowing she’ll follow.
“Is that a problem?”
“I literally just said good morning… no, it’s not a problem. Sunny and George should be here in like an hour though.”
She purses her lips, “Right, an hour or so, and I take it you want me to leave when they get here?”
“I am not telling you to leave, but if you do hang out can we leave all the god business out? I know you can be fun to be around.” He glances at her, eyebrows raised, as they make their way inside the high rise.
She forces a smile, “Right. Well, I have plenty of time regardless.”
Atticus falters for a moment, but he doesn’t say anything as they continue on.
Back inside the station, Atticus gets on air to remind the city about the evening’s events. Dimitri watches him closely as he speaks, “That was a newer song by one of the city’s favorites, the Streamliners, who performed last night I believe. I wasn’t able to go, but I’m sure it was a great time for anyone that did. Tonight, however, I hope to see plenty of people in the crowds for the one and only Jackson Mondo, who’s opener is yours truly. Now, I haven’t been on stage in a hot minute, so you’ll have to take it easy on me, but I’m looking forward to meeting your mothers, who I hope you’ll bring. Anyway, here’s another local favorite.” He mutes the mic and then looks up and addresses Dimitri directly, “Can you not be fucking creepy for one day, please? I get that you’re mad or whatever, but if I can choose to be accepting of my fate in this fucked up contract, the least you can do is cut me some slack and try to make it worth both of our times.”
She purses her lips until they turn up, into a smirk, “I suppose you’re right, and it seems you’re a little more tolerable if you’re in somewhat of a good mood. I’ll try not to be too unsettling if I’m around the boys later.”
“Thank you.” Atticus stands and goes to the window, peering down at the canal in anticipation, even though he knows it hasn’t been nearly long enough.
Atticus and Dimitri spend the next hour sorting through music and making small talk, just like most other days. Dimitri even makes the trip to Atticus’ room to retrieve his suit and make sure it’s still presentable enough for the evening. As time passes, however, Atticus paces by the window and Dimitri finds herself lounging in her chair, far too nonchalantly.
“It’s taking them too long, don’t you think?” Atticus is chewing on his thumb nail as he stares out the window.
“I’m sure they’re fine, take it easy. Maybe they realized the trip wasn’t worth their trouble or the gondo got lost.”
“No, she seemed plenty capable and Sunny has never flaked on me before. I’m going out, feel free to take over music until I get back.” He doesn’t wait for a response before swiftly exiting the room.
The elevator has never felt slower than it does now, and Atticus taps his foot nervously as he waits. He hardly lets the doors slide open before slipping through and finding the building exit through the foyer. On the docks, he scans the area and looks downstream for any familiar faces, without success. Surely the high water levels after the rain are just making it take longer to paddle back upstream.
Atticus can’t shake his uneasiness as he quickly decides to flag down the next gondolier, jumping into their boat before they can come to a stop, “Just take me downstream, I’ll let you know when to stop. Quickly, please.”
The gondo complies and they rapidly move downstream with the current until Atticus can hear commotion not far off. There’s an empty gondola drifting away and a familiar woman dragging herself up onto the docks with the aid of another man.
Atticus’ heart skips a beat as they get closer and he can hear hollering down the nearest alleyway. “Here, stop here!”
The gondo looks worried as well as they angle the boat towards the dock. Atticus jumps out too soon and slips as he lands on the wood. He regains his feet quickly, however, and begins sprinting towards the noise. As he passes the woman, finally finding herself on stable ground, she points down the alley and hollers some sort of jumbled apology. Turning the corner, there’s two men on top of Sunny, who’s collapsed on the planks, while George is fighting a third, trying to get to his brother.
Atticus stops running for a moment, taking in the scene in horror, but picks up his pace once again as rage fills him. “GET OFF OF HIM YOU MOTHERFUCKERS I’LL KILL YOU.”
As the men notice Atticus approaching, they bellow with laughter, proceeding to make a barrier between him and the others.
George is still trying to get the third man off of him and catches Atticus’ eyes, and Atticus can see a fear like no other in them, “ATTICUS DO SOMETHING.”
“I KNOW, GEORGIE, WORKING ON IT.” He scans the docks in milliseconds until he finds Sunny’s crutch nearby, scooping it up and swinging it as hard as he possibly can at the men in front of him. “Now would be a great time to use that killer right hook I know you’ve got, George!”
George gets the boost of adrenaline he needs to keep fighting, following Atticus’ command and swinging his fist around until it connects with the ear of the man engaged with him. It’s enough to make him dizzy so that George can plant a kick into his gut and send him stumbling back into the canal with a splash. It makes the dock more slick, which could both aid and hinder them as they fight.
“That’s the spirit, Georgie, keep it up!” Atticus uses the metal crutch to land a couple more hits on the men until George can back him up.
As the two team up on the men, making it an even fight, one of the men disengages for a moment to scoop up Sunny, who appears nearly limp, his hair hardly blond anymore with the blood caked into it. The man swings Sunny into the canal with another large splash.
Eyes wide, Atticus throws himself onto the man, toppling them both to the ground so that Atticus is on top, crushing his throat with the crutch in his hands. Once the man fades out of consciousness, Atticus doesn’t hesitate to trust that George can handle the last one.
Atticus throws himself headfirst into the canal, praying that he didn’t do so too late.
The salt water is dark and murky, burning his open eyes as he dives down. He can barely make out the form of Sunny’s body as it makes contact with what was once the pavement of this city’s side streets. Atticus reaches his brother and has never been more grateful for his time scavenging for food, submerged in flooded basements, as he continues to hold his breath. He slides one arm under Sunny’s armpit and around his torso, kicking off of the street and back up towards the water’s surface.
As he breaks the surface, George is just finishing the last man. He’s taken up the crutch himself and is repeatedly beating the man, who’s unconscious on the planks.
Atticus gulps for air, coughing as he swallows water trying to speak. He finally gets his words out after watching George pummel both of the men, “That’s enough, George! Help me get Sunny out!”
George looks up, eyes brimming with tears, and frantically crawls over on all fours until he’s on the dock edge, reaching for Sunny. The two work together to get him up, with Atticus following. He has to catch his breath, but doesn’t take long to recover and begin attending to his unconscious brother.
Sunny’s face is already swollen and blood still seeps out of a likely-broken nose, but Atticus quickly gets to work in conducting chest compressions. He had hoped he would never use this knowledge, but Sienna had made sure to teach him and Sunny basic first aid. It always made him sad to think that she expected him to have to use it, specifically on Sunny, but it’s in this moment that he’s thankful for her paranoid teachings.
Every half of a minute or so, Atticus quits the compressions to perform rescue breaths and then continues pressing a tempo into Sunny’s heart. His eyes burning from the water and brimming with tears, he can barely see as he works. George is sitting on the opposite side, breathing heavily and rambling; begging whoever will listen to spare their brother.
Atticus tries to calm George down between breaths, “Don’t ask the gods for help, Georgie, they’re far too selfish. I need you to get it together enough to take over, I can’t do this much longer.”
George nods and wipes his eyes, shifting his position to be up on his knees and ready to take over.
Despite what he told George, Atticus is internally praying himself, asking Life or Death or whoever else might have any power in the situation to spare his brother. No, not Sunny, not Alec. I’ve never feared Death until now, and my life isn’t even on the line, so gods help me; spare the one person capable of saving me.
He does his third set of rescue breaths and is about to tap out when Sunny sucks in a breath on his own and begins coughing up water and blood.
“Fuck fuck fuck, on his side, hurry,” Atticus grabs Sunny’s arm opposite of him and pulls him over, George following suit and pushing him up from the other side.
Sunny continues to throw up the fluids trapped in his throat and lungs for several long seconds. Atticus collapses onto his back next to Sunny once George has him stable on his side. He can feel the bile spreading across the planks and into his own wet hair, but Atticus doesn’t move, almost laughing as he stares up at the wispy clouds floating by overhead, in the space between skyscrapers. Whether the laughing is out of relief or fear or both, he couldn’t say at this point.
Once Sunny’s breathing returns to normal, Atticus rolls over and props himself up to see his two brothers; George is still stone solid as he holds Sunny, who’s spitting the vile taste from his mouth as much as possible. Sunny finally attempts to push himself up into a sitting position, George helping him up. Most of the blood washed off of him in the water, but he still looks like a mess, face purple and nose crooked.
Atticus hesitates momentarily but ultimately throws his arms around Sunny, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I thought we lost you.” The tears stream from his eyes and onto Sunny’s already wet shoulder. George leans away to make space, but Atticus notices and reaches over, gripping his sleeve and pulling George within his embrace as well. Sunny attempts to weakly return the hugs, but it’s clear he’s in pain and the other two gently release him.
“What are you apologizing for? I hardly remember anything past the first couple of punches, but what I do know is that you showed up in the end, like you always do.” Sunny smiles crookedly, one side of his face too swollen for it to spread across his face the way it usually does. He chuckles a little bit, but it quickly turns into a cough, “I should be the one apologizing for you two always having to save my ass.”
“No. No, this is probably my fault.” Atticus’ tunnel vision widens as the adrenaline wears off. The anger gradually rises as he’s become aware of the two semi-conscious guards nearby, the third still trying to get out of the water, and the small crowd at the end of the alley, watching and complacent in the whole affair. “Or I know who was responsible.”
“Atti, please don’t do anything, can we just go home?” Sunny grabs Atticus’ wrist as he starts to stand.
“I thought you were sick of how indifferent everyone is here? Don’t worry, we’re gonna go home.” He’s unnaturally calm as he speaks, but turns to George as he continues, “Help Sunny out to the main canal and flag down a boat, I’ll meet you out there after dealing with these assholes.”
George nods and begins helping Sunny to his feet, “Don’t do anything too stupid, we don’t want anything happening to you, either.”
“I don’t give a fuck what happens to me. Go.”
As Sunny and George slowly make their way to the main canal, Atticus marches towards the man floundering for a grip to climb back onto the dock. He crouches down and grips the man’s collar, holding his head just above the water.
“Jackson send you?”
The man doesn’t answer, eyes wide in fear.
Atticus forces his head under the surface and pulls him back up, sputtering. “I asked you a fucking question.”
“Y-yes, Mondo gave us targets and a location, said to make them miserable.”
“Figured, and only one person would know to give him that information.” He throws the man back into the water and then moves to the other two men, unmoving on the docks. He checks their pulses, faint but present, and sighs in relief. He didn’t want any blood to be on George’s hands. He leaves them there and then picks up George’s crutch nearby. It’s been badly bent and blood speckles the entirety of it, so he tosses it into the canal before heading back to where Sunny and George are waiting for him, already in a boat.
George is clearly uncomfortable when Atticus returns and hops into the boat.
“They’re alive, don’t worry,” Atticus reassures him as the gondo pushes them off the dock, “and I didn’t do anything to them either, so rest assured, none of us are killers.”
George and Sunny both sigh in relief, but Atticus lets out a laugh.
“They almost fucking killed both of you and you’re more worried about whether we’re the problem? We don’t live in a place that allows that kind of thinking, guys, c’mon.”
“We can always afford to maintain our humanity, Atti.” Sunny tries to smile, but it just comes off as a look of pity.
“I’d like to agree with you, Sunny Boy, but I’m not so sure about that. Take it easy though, let’s just get you home.”
They sit in silence the remainder of the ride. The sun has already peaked in the sky and is beginning its descent when they arrive at the Mattern household. Atticus thanks and pays the gondolier with wet cash and then he and George half carry, half drag Sunny out of the boat and around the house to the back entrance.
“MOM!” George yells as they settle on the porch, where chickens are cooing and making space for them all. When they don’t get an immediate response, he leaves Atticus to take all of Sunny’s weight and jogs into the house.
After several minutes, George returns with a fuming Sienna and the twins trailing behind, worried looks on their faces. Elise and Marco quickly surpass George and Sienna when they see Sunny’s condition.
“Sunny!” They yell practically in unison and he musters the best smile he can in response.
“Easy, kids, go clear the couch for him and get the first aid supplies, will ya?” Atticus speaks to them calmly and they nod, wide-eyed, before running back inside.
Sienna already has tears in her eyes as she arrives, pulling Sunny into her own arms as Atticus surrenders his own grip on his brother. “George told me all I need to know, let’s get you boys cleaned up.” She gives Atticus a sympathetic look over Sunny’s shoulder and then they all make their way inside.
The twins had worked quickly, so they’re able to easily get Sunny situated on the couch, Marco coming out of the bathroom with an armful of miscellaneous bandages and jars of ointment. Sienna and the twins get to work patching him up, but Atticus excuses himself and steps outside.
He leans against the outside of the house and digs out the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, cursing when he realizes they’re soaked. He chucks them against the wooden planks in frustration and slides to the ground himself. After a moment, several chickens come over and begin to peck at the wet tobacco grounds spilling out of the box. Atticus grumbles and moves to shoo them off, but they’re persistent and he gives up.
Several minutes later, George comes out of the house and chases the chickens off himself, kicking the soggy box across the porch and into the canal without saying a word. He slides down next to Atticus and holds out a fresh pack of smokes with dry matches accompanying. Atticus takes them graciously, eyes wide in disbelief, and immediately sets to lighting one and taking a long drag.
Assuming it’s one of his old packs that George had found stashed, he’s surprised when George holds out his hand to take the cig back, taking a drag himself.
“Didn’t know you smoked.” Atticus side-eyes him.
George breaks out into a coughing fit and then finally responds, “I don’t.” He passes the cigarette back to Atticus, who’s shaking his head and lightly chuckling.
“You dumbass.” They continue passing it back and forth until it’s gone and Atticus starts on a second, but this one George declines.
Atticus finally breaks the silence halfway through the second cig, “You did good out there, George. Glad my bullying paid off, because that could’ve been much worse.”
“Could’ve gone a lot better, too.”
“Well, too late now, doesn’t matter.”
“How do you keep it together so well?”
“I don’t, not really.” He finishes the cigarette and flicks it out to the water. “Let’s go inside.”
Atticus stands and then offers a hand, pulling George up as well, and they return to the living room, where Sunny is finished being babied by his mother and younger siblings. He’s heavily bruised and one eye is nearly swollen shut, but he’s already trying to goof around with Marco and Elise, weaving a story about what happened. He talks about a sea monster coming out of the canal and Atticus’ and George’s “heroic” acts. The three of them are smiling, and that’s all that matters, but Atticus can’t help but to still feel the anger simmering inside of him.
Sunny notices Atticus and George approach and pauses his story, “Atti, don’t you need to go? Mondo’s show…”
“Fuck Mondo. The deal was that I’ll comply as long as my family is left alone. I’d much rather stay for dinner with you all. Besides, Sunny got the story all wrong, he said ‘sea monster’ as if it was just one and left out the part where he also kicked ass. We’re gonna have to amend that.” He grins at the twins.
Sunny shifts where he’s seated and looks around for a crutch that isn’t there.
George notices and speaks up, “It’s… not usable anymore, believe me. I’ll go get your other one.” He disappears into another room, returning a moment later with a matching crutch from the pair and hands it to Sunny. “Should you be getting up yet, though? I’m sure you’ve also got broken ribs or something.”
“No, it’s fine, I don’t want to be swallowed by this damn couch.” He takes the crutch and slowly stands, situating it around his left forearm and leaning into it to equalize his weight. He winces and almost loses his balance, George barely catching him.
Sienna is trying to move in to help as well, muttering about how he needs to take it easy, but the look on Sunny’s face pleads to be left alone. She sighs and backs away, “I’ll go start on dinner, since we’re all together. Marco, Elise, wanna help?” The three of them move into the kitchen.
Sunny looks at Atticus, “Help me outside?”
“Let’s get some dry clothes first, then yes.”
The two boys sit on the edge of the porch, feet hanging off into the water. It’s late afternoon and the sun is shining directly on them, without the high rises of the inner city to block it. George opted to stay inside, leaving his two older brothers alone, and is off in his own room. Atticus is swirling his feet around in the water and holding a hen in his arms while Sunny lays back, flat on the wood, so he doesn’t have to worry about holding his own weight.
“That cloud looks like a pirate ship.” Sunny nods up towards the large cloud drifting across the sky.
Atticus looks up and chuckles, “You’re right, it does.” He shifts the chicken into one arm and uses the other to dig out the pack of cigarettes that George gave him and lights one. “Sorry, Sunny, can’t help it, not now.”
“I don’t blame you.” They sit in silence for a moment while Atticus smokes and then Sunny continues speaking, “Atti, are you sure you can be here right now?”
Atticus tenses his jaw and blows the smoke out of his nostrils, “No. But it doesn’t matter.”
“You say that a lot.”
“I know.”
“So what does matter? What are you going to do?”
“What I’m going to do,” He takes a drag and lets out the smoke, “is eat dinner with my family, who I almost lost today. Then, I am going to take my time getting to Century City, where I’ll show up fashionably late, and then I’ll probably do something stupid or be killed on the spot.”
“Just stay here, then.”
“And what? Risk more mobsters coming directly to us? No, something is going to change after tonight.”
Sunny sighs, “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you get caught up in all of this?”
Atticus snickers and his movement makes the chicken under his arm hop away, “Ain’t that the question, huh?”
“I’m serious.” Sunny forces himself up into a sitting position so he can look at Atticus. “There’s gotta be some reason you felt so desperate to fucking, what? Sell your soul to a god?”
Atticus freezes, his hand halfway to his mouth with the burning cig, and he glances into Sunny’s eyes, “I don’t think I sold my soul, but close enough. How’d you come to believe that?”
“I think I met Death in the water back there, Atti, and suddenly what Di said made sense when I woke up.”
“What?”
“I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it. But I do think I’m ready to hear your explanation.”
“Fuck, Alec, I don’t fucking know. I didn’t actually know what I was getting myself into, she just offered me success and I accepted. Maybe I wanted to pay you guys back, maybe I was sick of feeling like a useless bottom feeder, maybe I was hoping-”
“You know you’ve never had to pay us back, we’ve never asked anything of you aside from being here with us. You’re family, Atti, whether you accept it or not.”
“All my family ends up dead or hurt because of me. My parents would probably still be alive if they hadn’t been sacrificing everything just to raise me. I don’t want to be that person anymore, I want you guys to be able to rely on me for help.”
“Atticus, how many times have you saved my life by now?”
“Too many to count, and it’s getting tiresome, man, when are you gonna grow that leg back?” He forces a laugh and tries to steer the conversation away. “Maybe we can at least get you a peg leg and go get on that pirate ship in the sky. We’ll sail the world and never get caught up in any of this shit ever again.”
“I wish…” He looks back up at the cloud, that’s now been distorted into a shapeless blur. “I bet dinner is ready, wanna go inside?”
“Gladly.” Atticus finishes smoking and helps Sunny back inside, where the rest of the family is plating food and setting the dinner table.
The family eats together, Atticus and Sunny adding to their story of sea monsters and pirate battles, and everyone pretending that everything is okay for the time being. Life almost feels normal, but in the back of his mind, Atticus can’t stop thinking about what’s going to happen next.
The skies dim and the horizon burns orange, sunlight dancing across the ripples of the canals when Atticus finally announces his departure. Sunny tries not to show his concern with the rest of the family unaware of the precedent of the situation, but he forces himself to stand and hug Atticus.
Sunny whispers into his ear, “Nothing too irrational, please.”
“I’m done making promises I can’t keep.” Atticus mutters his response and disconnects. He forces a smile at the rest of the family and slips out the front entrance, directly onto the main dock.
There’s a gondolier patiently waiting for him in his boat. Trevor stands when Atticus appears and subtly smiles, “Didn’t know I’d be back in town quite so soon, but I could tell it was time. To the Centurion?”
“All the way to the top.” Atticus doesn’t question him as he hops into the boat and they take off. This time, Trevor doesn’t even pretend to be steering the boat, he simply stands on the stern, leaning on his paddle as he watches the decrepit buildings and flickering lights pass by.