Pokefic: Part 2: Any Port in a Storm

Part 2: Any Port in a Storm

        Sjoerd was faring little better when Mojca found him. He had tightly wrung his arms through the railing and was clinging on tight. Long-forgotten was his sea-sickness as he had the more pressing subject of his life to worry about.
        “Sjoerd! You’re not going to believe this!” His friend shouted above the storm as she slammed the cabin door behind her. The young boy proceeded to ignore his friend. If there was a storm raging about them, Mojca showed no signs of noticing. “C’mon!” She grabbed at the back of his blue-striped shirt.
        “In case you haven’t noticed, Mojca, I’m a little busy!” He yelled while ignoring her insistent tugging. Sjoerd raised his voice and yelled into the air, “I’m not dying until I become a Pokémon master!”
        Mojca tugged harder, “If you don’t plan on dying, why are you out here?!”
        It was a good question. Why was he still out here? As he opened his mouth to respond, it suddenly filled with salt water as a huge wave crashed over the boat. Already soaked to the bone, Sjoerd hardly realized the difference until he was able to breathe again when the ferry resurfaced. Sputtering water he realized his treasured straw boater was now missing. And so was Mojca. “Mojca!” He shouted. She must have been swept overboard with his hat. Squinting against the rain and ocean spray, Sjoerd scanned the churning waters for his friend. Long moments passed before he spotted her struggling against the waves. In one hand, she hung onto Sjored’s hat. Her other arm was wrapped around Petilil, who was bobbing up and down like a life preserver.
        A false moment of relief swept over the young boy before he realized his friend was still in danger. She was being carried out further and further away from the ship. His own safety forgotten, Sjoerd grabbed a classic life preserver, inscribed with the name of the boat, and plunged overboard.
        Sjoerd, while well versed in boat safety, having grown up on an island, failed to make one important check. As he dove into the ocean, the entire rope length followed; it hadn’t been properly secured to the ship.
        Adrenaline pumping, the young trainer swam the fastest breaststroke he had ever managed in his short eleven years. Despite his effort, he didn’t seem to be making any progress toward his friend. Rather, he felt his body being tugged backwards. A huge wave swelled up from behind him. Suddenly, he was thrown at Mojca so fast, he hardly had time to grab her arm. He felt the wave subside and all went dark.

                                            ---

        Mojca awoke with her head on something hard. With the realization that she was no longer on the ferry, she bolted upright. The sky was dark, but in the dim light of the moon, Mojca could make out the sandy shore underneath her. Sprawled out near her were Sjoerd, his hat, a life preserver, and Petilil. Oddly enough, her bag was still slung over her shoulder, yet everything inside was undoubtedly soaked.The only thing missing was her pokegear; how many times had her mother scolded her to wear it tighter? At least those were easy to replace.
        Making a face of disgust, Mojca pulled out the soggy box of Charizard Crunchies. Underneath was her mother’s old Pokédex. It had not been spared from the watery onslaught either. She waved it around trying to dry it off. The screen blinked on.
        “Omanyte, the spiral Pokémon. In prehistoric times, it swam on the bottom of the sea floor, eating plankton. Its fossils are sometimes found.” The monotone droned on sounding no worse for the wear.
        “Stupid, there’s not an Omanyte around. Must be broken...” She continued to wave it around.
        “Oma?” The rock behind her moved.
        “KYAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!”
        Petilil and Sjoerd abruptly woke.
        “Ugh, Mojca, not now...” Moaned her friend as he rolled over. Many times had Mojca attempted to wake him up in bizarre fashions, usually involving loud noises.
        “Omanyte, the spiral Pokémon...” The Pokédex began for about the fifth time. This time it penetrated Sjoerd’s mind.
        “What the...?”
        “Omanyte!”
        “Petilil!” The two Pokémon began a conversation.
        Now fully awake, Sjoerd joined Mojca in watching the bizarre spectacle in front of them. “I thought those were extinct.”
        “That’s what I was trying to tell you! There were a whole bunch of them! This guy must have gotten washed up with us here... wherever that is.” She shivered, still quite wet.
        Omanyte began to crawl inland towards an immense jungle of dark trees.
        “Petilil! Lil!” Mojca’s partner bounced with enthusiasm.
        Perplexed, Mojca stared at her Pokémon for a moment. “Do... you want us to follow?”
        An extra bounce came with the response. “Petilil!”
        “Guess that’s a yes.” She put the Pokédex back inside her soggy bag and swallowed her fear of the looming forest. “Let’s go!”
        Sjoerd didn’t have a chance to hesitate before Mojca grabbed his wrist and dragged him along. “C-can’t we wait until the sun comes up?”
        His question was ignored.

                                             ---

        Several minutes of hiking through the thick understory found the two adventurers on something of a trail. No Pokémon emerged from the brush on either side of the trail. Both were beginning to feel their fortune was starting to turn around despite their wet clothes.
         That was, until they arrived at a set of wooden gates. They were illuminated by a flickering torch. Standing out front was a man wearing nothing but a grass skirt and hat.
        “Wilkommen!” he greeted in a thick accent that did not match the language of his greeting.
        Mojca screamed. Sjoerd fainted.
        “What’sa wrong wi’ yer friend there?” he asked, moving closer to Mojca, and squinting down at Sjoerd. “‘E’s haes a wiek aart?”
        “What?” Asked Mojca.
        The Grass-skirted man simply looked at Mojca like she was slow and repeated, “Eh sayed e’s haes a wiek aart?”
        When Mojca did not respond, the man turned and looked at Omanyte and shrugged.
        Suddenly, there was a bright flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder that shook the ground.
        “We’d be best getting out of the storm,” advised the grass-skirted man in an almost totally normal voice, looking up to the sky, “Seems there’s a storm left out there yet.”
        He abruptly turned and walked back through the wooden gate.
        “Wait!” Mojca called after him as she ran to keep up. She was not sure she wanted to follow him, but staying out in the storm seemed like a worse idea. But was there something she was forgetting? Glancing down to her side, she saw Petilil hopping along beside her. Nope, nothing, she thought, satisfied.
        Meanwhile, back out in front of the gates, Sjoerd was awakened by the cold raindrops that were persistently pecking away at his face. He slowly opened his eyes and groaned aloud when he saw that he was, in fact, in front of a pair of wooden gates with a flickering tiki torch that threatened to go out.
        Propping himself up on a nearby rock, the young boy looked about for his friend. He shuddered when a large crack of thunder followed a mere second after a massive bolt of lightning cascaded in the clouds overhead. “H-hey! Mojca! Grass-skirt guy? Anyone?” He shouted at the gates.
        “Omanyte?” The rock under his elbow questioned. The fossil Pokémon shrugged itself from under Sjoerd’s arm and crawled its way to the gates. It took another crash of thunder to jolt the boy from his shock and into motion.
        Inside the boundaries of the gates, Sjoerd found himself surrounded by a few dozen lean-tos made of reeds. Just where in the known world was this? He tried to recall the different regions from school; Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh, Unova, and Kalos. Each one had its own bizarre cities, but he couldn’t recall any that matched the strange scene that he was witnessing.
        “Sjoerd! Over here!” The voice of his friend came out from behind the now-pouring rain. The short-haired girl stood in the entryway to one of the lean-tos, holding the reed mat that served as a door open as she waved frantically at him.
        Wanting nothing more than to get out of the elements, Sjoerd ran toward the welcoming light inside the lean-to. He didn’t get very far before he felt his leg catch on something hard. “Wha?” He exclaimed as he fell on his face on the soggy ground.
        A shadowy figure passed by him slowly. “Oma...” It muttered.
        Sjoerd grumbled in frustration. Pushing himself back onto his feet, he grabbed the Omanyte and hurried into the reed lean-to.
        Inside, where he was hoping to dry off and warm up by the fire, was nothing but a dirt floor. Sjoerd plopped down on the dirt next to the entryway. Looking up, he discovered that the light that had looked so warm and welcoming on the outside was coming from a Chinchou floating peacefully in a drip bucket full of a water that slowly trickled in from a hole somewhere in the roof of the lean-to.
        “I-I-I’m c-c-c-c-c-cold,” he stuttered, hugging his arms around himself and shivering.
        Mojca put her hands on her hips and looked down at him. “Well, you wouldn’t be if you hadn’t been waiting out in the rain.”
        Ignoring his friend, Sjoerd asked the grass skirted man, “Do you have something that could warm me up?”
        “Nope. Nothing,” replied the grass skirted man, “Besides, it’s bad luck to light a fire indoors in the rain.”
        For the next minute, there was a long, awkward silence.
        “OMANYTE!” yelled the Omanyte suddenly, and outside there was a bright flash of lightning, followed by the loud crash of thunder. Then the room returned to its formerly silent state.
        From outside the winds howled and shook the reed lean-to and the rain pelted hard against the side. The noise was constant, loud, and unbroken, until…
        “THUD!”
        Sjoerd jumped. “W-what was that?!” he demanded.
        “Oh, it probably noth-” started the grass skirted man, but stopped and squinted toward the door as if it would help him hear better.
        Squish, squish, squish.
        Sjoerd shivered and backed away from the doorway. Mojca followed.
        Squish, squish, squish.
        Through the reed mat, the silhouette of a four-foot standing shape appeared…
        Slash! The reed mat in the doorway fell to the ground and revealed a Kabutops.
        Mojca pulled out her Pokédex.
        “With sharp claws, this ferocious, ancient Pokémon rips apart prey and sucks their body fluids,” reported the Pokédex authoritatively.
        Mojca and Sjoerd both backed toward the wall, terrified.
        “Petilil!” said Petilil, following Mojca.
        Petilil’s voice made Sjoerd remember that he, too, had a Pokémon. Maybe it could eat the Kabutops like it did the table.
        “I choose you, Gulpin!” he shouted, throwing the Pokéball that had sat at his waist.
        Gulpin popped out of the ball in a flash of light.
        “GULPIN,” yawned Gulpin, sitting in a blob in the center of the lean-to.
        “KABUTOPS!” yelled Kabutops fiercely.
        Gulpin sloooooowly turned to look at the Kabutops. Whatever the large rock/water type had said appeared to have angered it.         It suddenly lurched forward and began incessantly pounding the Kabutops.
        Both young trainers stared in awe. Gulpin was useful? Hope surged through Sjoerd. He’d be a Pokémon master yet!
        Not wanting to be outdone by her friend, Mojca ordered Petilil into the fray. “Petilil! Use absorb!”
        A few green orbs of energy emerged from the Kabutops and osmosed into Petilil’s leafy green skin. The enemy Pokémon staggered backwards, clearly affected by the grass based move.
        “We’ve got this!” Cheered Mojca.
        Envisioning his future victories, Sjoerd was in full battle mode. “Gulpin, yawn!”
        As if it were waiting for this exact moment, the Kabutops spewed a jet of mud at the two Pokémon. Gulpin had the misfortune of being mid-yawn and found itself with a mouth full of mud. It let out a groan and passed out.
        The dreams of Pokémon championship evaporated from Sjoerd’s mind. He glumly pulled out Gulpin’s Pokéball and called back the unconscious Pokémon.
        Petilil had fared little better. Dripping in mud, the bulb Pokémon was sprawled out on its back; eyes unfocused. “Petilil! Uh... return!” Mojca hesitated, wondering if her companion would get up on its own. “Now what?” She yelled to Sjoerd as a rather angry-looking Kabutops advanced on them.
        Something cold and hard brushed against Sjoerd’s leg. He looked down to see Omanyte attempting to hide behind him. “Wait a second. You’re a water Pokémon!” He exclaimed. “Omanyte! Use water gun!”
        The spiral Pokémon stared up with a watery set of googly eyes. A slimy tentacle clutched at his leg.  
        “I don’t think it knows that move yet!” Mojca shouted.
        Sjoerd scanned the room for other options. There! He locked onto the Chinchou in the pail of water. It met his gaze warily. “Chinchou! Bubble?” The command left his mouth as a question as the Pokémon glared at him in defiance.
        “Hey! What do you think you’re doing, commanding someone else’s Pokémon?” Shouted the grass-skirted man from the corner where he had been huddling in trouble.
        “Why don’t you help us then?!” Demanded Mojca. “We’re running out of options!”
Over the sound of the storm, more footsteps were heard drawing closer. “Over there!” A shout came from outside the lean-to. Heavier squishing and squelching was heard as several more pairs of feet headed in their direction.
        Kabutops stopped its advance as it too listened to the oncoming footsteps.
        “There it is! Sandslash, fury cutter!” The voice that commanded the Pokémon was gruff and authoritative.
        A large yellow shrew-like Pokémon flew through the air with a flash of silver from its razor sharp claws. With a single blow, the Kabutops was taken to the ground.
        “I’ve got you now, Kabutops!” Light burst forth from a quickly tossed Pokéball. With minimal struggle the fossil Pokémon submitted. A red beam of light withdrew the Sandslash almost at the same time. “Sorry for the trouble. Is everyone okay?” The man who entered was tall; neither Mojca nor Sjoerd were close to reaching his shoulders in height. He wore a brown button-down shirt and cargo shorts. Long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail at the back of his head and well-trimmed beard framed a sturdy jaw line. Grey eyes peered down at the two young trainers before sweeping over to the owner of the lean-too. “You have guests, Gyeong?”
        Brushing his grass skirt off, Gyeong pulled himself up to his feet looking exceptionally dignified considering his display of cowardice mere moments ago. “They just showed up with the storm this afternoon. I was going to show them around once the storm let up.”
        “I see.” The man swept his gaze back to the youngsters in front of him. “Trainers, no doubt. But you two seem rather... green... The Pokémon in this area are far too much for beginners. Especially on red moon nights.”
        Sjoerd rolled his eyes. No kidding.
        “We got swept off our ferry. We just started yesterday.” Mojca struggled to explain their bizarre predicament.
        “Just who are you, anyways?” Asked Sjoerd, sourly.
        The man arched an eyebrow with amusement. “Me? I’m merely a collector. Well, more of a paleontologist, really. The name’s Cadfan Garver.”
        The young boy scrutinized Cadfan carefully; he certainly looked the part.
        As if sensing the boy’s mistrust, Cadfan dug into a shirt pocket and withdrew a small card. He handed it to Sjoerd.
        “Dr. Cadfan Garver, founder of Team Dig, Paleontologist, specializing in reanimation of fossil Pokémon.” Sjoerd read aloud from the card.
        “Satisfied?” Cadfan asked with a laugh.
        The boy grumbled and handed the card back to the man. “No, keep it. I’ve got hundreds. Literally.”
        “So what was with the Kabutops? I thought those were all extinct? Did you bring that one back?” Mojca fired off an onslaught of questions.
        “No, that wasn’t my doing. Several places around the world have strange events corresponding to the phases of the moon. My team and I are trying to understand these the best we can.” He paused and stared at the ground behind Sjoerd’s feet. Hadn’t there been something there when he had entered?
        Mojca looked down at her friend’s feet. The space occupied by Omanyte was now empty. She wondered who would trip over it next.
        “Why don’t the two of you come to my dig site? We have a few trailers set up; you could dry off there. I would hate for your journey to get off to a worse start.”
        At the offer of warmth and dryness, Sjoerd forgot all of his reservations and followed Cadfan to the trailer.
        Inside was a short woman with her orange hair in a ponytail that seemed to be as high as it could go without being vertical. “Philippa Babcoke!” she introduced herself abruptly, extending her hand to Sjoerd, “I’m Dr. Garver’s assistant.”
        Cadfan stepped forward. “Philippa, would you see to it that these children get dried off and cleaned up?” He shot a disdainful look at Sjoerd in the last part of his statement.
        Sjoerd caught his glance and glared back. Once inside, he realized he could not blame the man: he was covered in so much mud from his fall that he looked like a Muk.
        Mojca was relieved to be out of the cold and wet clothes she had been wearing and into a spare set Philippa had had on hand. They were a little big, but fit for the most part because of the assistant’s short stature. She was waiting for Sjoerd, who was doing his best to un-Muk himself at the sink, by sitting with Philippa’s Blitzle. The Blitzle kept nuzzling Mojca’s arm, trying to get attention, but Mojca was hesitant to pet it when its mane was glowing with a faint electric glow and electricity cracked every time it exhaled.
        Philippa had left the trailer to converse with Cadfan quietly outside with her Sneasel umbrella. She had left the door open, and the smell of cooking fish wafted in through the trailer door.
        “I’ve made grub! Come and eat!” A loud voice came from outside.
        Sjoerd instantly popped his head out of the trailer’s bathroom. “Food? Where?!” He had not realized it before but he was starving.
        By now the rain had let up, though the sky was still rather overcast. Thunder was heard in the direction the storm had progressed, but the researchers, Gyeong, and their Pokémon paid it no mind. With a dry towel, Philippa set about drying off the picnic table outside of the trailer.
        Gyeong placed a steaming plate of rice and steamed vegetables on the table. Both Mojca and Sjoerd were too hungry to even to thank the chef.
        Taking a heaping spoonful of rice, Cadfan watched the children with amusement. “So, where are you two from?”
        “Shinnaburh Uhslamnph,” answered Sjoerd, mouth full.
        Mojca stopped eating a moment to answer, “Cinnabar Island.”
        “...Cinnabar Island, huh?” Cadfan looked thoughtful, “That’s where that Pokémon lab is. Maybe we could-”
        There was a clatter as Philippa hit the rice cooker with her elbow and knocked it off the table. No sooner had it hit the ground than a cast of Krabbies showed up and began chowing down on the spilled rice. When all the rice was gone, they turned to the table.
        “Co-ki!” said one.
        “Co-ki, co-ki, co-ki,” said another.
        “Gulpin!” said Gulpin and began nearing the table.
        Sjoerd turned in alarm to find his little green blob out of its Pokéball and leading the Krabbies in an assault on the dinner table.
        “Not gonna happen!” he shouted and began shoveling the food from his plate into his mouth even faster.
        Mojca, too, picked up her pace.
        Cadfan, Philippa, and Gyeong stared at the two, confused, until…
        Philippa, who was sitting at the end felt slime against her legs and looked down to find that Gulpin had appeared on her lap. Before she knew it, her dinner was gone, paper plate and all.
        “Recall your Gulpin!” Cadfan instructed Sjoerd.
        Sjoerd picked up his Pokéball and pointed it at the Gulpin. “Return,” he commanded.
        Gulpin stayed outside of the Pokéball, but looked sad and hopped off Philippa’s lap and headed out of the camp, with all of the Krabbies following.