The Tainted Sea
It was a cold and barren February day in Kodiak Alaska. Faint snow crystals were falling from the heavens and the stars would illuminate them as they lay still upon the ground. Jack Dillinger had just thrown the last drunk out of his pub and returned silently to the second floor were he lived. The pub was left to him in his deceased father’s will. Dillinger never cared for the man or the run down pub. Rather, his eyes were set on alcohol, women, and corruption. He was a people person; after all he received most of his revenue by giving free drinks to susceptible customers, taking their valuables and money off their intoxicated bodies, and would then sell it to the next person that walked through the door. In all, Dillinger made this peaceful town hell. He did not receive full satisfaction for his actions because every morning when he looked in the shattered mirror he was still the same old middle classed man he had always been.
Dillinger awoke in the morning from the reflection of the dim sun off of the icy ocean and the sound of snowmobiles commuting to the driver’s place of work. Stumbling out of his pub, fishing poles in hand Dillinger was off to catch some breakfast. Fishing was the only thing he liked as much as alcohol. He was one of the only people dumb enough in the town to put their life in jeopardy by navigating the freezing waters in exchange for some salmon. He hopped aboard his carbon fiber death trap and set out. Today the pitch-black water was willing to share some of its vast riches with Dillinger. Content with the mornings catch he started towards shore but something caught his attention. It wasn’t a whale but another fishing boat.
This vessel was not modern or seaworthy. Upon further inspection it was wooden and brittle. The wood seemed chard as if kissed by flames. There was one deckhand slumped at the end of the dinghy grasping a single rod. The man sat motionless. Dillinger was intrigued and let curiosity get the best of him. As he approached cautiously he noticed that there was not one sheet of ice perched at the waters surface, the water was as smooth as a pane of glass, and found that there was no more need for a coat. Dillinger’s engine abruptly coughed and ceased to run. He was now dead in the water with a complete stranger. The man turned very casually and exposed his oil-tainted face accompanied by his glazed, red eyes. He was covered in seared burlap rags and was wearing a red, silk bandana upon his head.
“I’ve been expecting you.” The man said.
“What? Me?” replied Dillinger dumbfounded.
“Yes, Mr. Dillinger. It seems like you have yourself a bit of a problem.”
Dillinger brushed the fact that the man had known his name aside and frowned as he looked at his empty engine.
“Yes I suppose. Gas now a days is just too expensive. You got to put your money towards more beneficial things if you know what I mean.”
The man chuckled silently.
“You are not fooling anyone Mr. Dillinger besides yourself. Does money matter that much to you?”
“More would make my life a lot better.” Dillinger said in an excited tone.
“Would it now? Well what if I could make you a billionaire?”
“Nice one!” Dillinger said laughing.
“Listen boy, you see these here maps? Drill at these indicated places and you would acquire all the money the world has to offer. And if you have not connected the dots I’m the devil and your pitiful laughter is not wanted here. Shake my hand and these maps are yours and your soul is mine to keep upon your death.”
Dillinger considered for a while but finally accepted the appealing offer thinking that the devil would never be able to find him to take his soul once he died.
“One last thing why do all your lures have a name etched into them?” Said Dillinger jokingly.
“These? Well let’s just say that these people had made a similar deal that you have just made with me. Now goodbye Mr. Dillinger” Said the devil as he reached over to fill up Dillinger’s tank.
Dillinger then sped off with a wide smile on his face.
Fifty years later pipelines ran throughout Alaska like an oversized cobweb. Dillinger believed that the environment must be the one to pay the price for his so called accomplishments. Now in his seventies the old man sat quietly in his mansion in Anchorage. He was partied out and weak. While sipping a glass of scotch he thought about the deal he had made with the devil and thought nothing of it. Instead he remembered his life at the pub and decided to go fishing one last time for old times sake. He jumped aboard his private jet and away he went toward Zodiac Island. There his yacht was awaiting his arrival.
The water was quite choppy but he took his chances anyway considering the price tag that came with the ship. After a long day of Fishing his body was weak and ready for bed. The waters had calmed so he anchored the boat and took a quick nap. He awoke later and stepped out of bed in a lethargic matter. He grew cold hastily and his feet went numb. Something wasn’t right. He glanced down and noticed a pool of water by his feet. He rushed to the door and yanked it open horrified. Upon opening the door all Mr. Dillinger was greeted with was a colossal wall of frigid water. The last sight Mr. Dillinger’s corpse laid its lifeless eyes upon was that of a shimmering Lure. One that had his name etched upon its side.
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