chapter 3

3.
I knew I looked out of place shoveling the cheddar broccoli soup into my mouth, but by this point I didn’t care. I knew folks were staring, but course after course I ate like this was my last meal. I felt like it may very well be. I stuffed myself with abandon, past the point of comfort, going for seconds on multiple courses, even dessert.

I looked up from time to time to catch a glare of disgust but if anything it amused me. The only look I cared about was that of recognition. Eventually, the chit chat and cups of coffee petered out. I was close to being able to escape when a glance from a bearded man gave me pause. He was likely in his early 40s, tufts of grey joining in with the brown. He wore a hard brimmed cap and a long coat, like some kind of Captain Ahab impersonator. His tan brown skin looked weathered and worn. What was odd was that the man wasn’t glaring at me like the others. It wasn’t quite a smile, but he looked almost... pleased. Like he was hungry and I was a nice steak. I assumed he was related to the chef, and continued my quest of gluttony.

As the crowd began to flit away I sat, engorged and barely able to move. The dress shirt, baggy before, pulled against my swollen midsection.

‘Well,’ I thought, a belch parting my lips, ‘good way to go out. If people weren’t suspicious before, this’ll get the guards sicked on me.’ I braced my legs and tried to rise out of the chair, but went nowhere. I suddenly became aware of the presence of large men behind me. I’ve been no stranger to that in my past, but in this scenario any excitement I would have felt turned to dread.

“You’ll be coming with us, stowaway. And do it quiet, we don’t want a scene and trust me, neither do you.”

I agreed with them. I had gotten a free meal and a stay in the nicest place I had ever set foot. That wasn’t much, but I supposed it was something before the prison stay. I nodded and tried to stand, needing a moment to rub my stuffed belly. The guards wrested me to my feet and followed close behind as they instructed me which turns to take. A stream of belches echoed around the halls as we went.

To my surprise, I was not led down to the lowest level, where I assumed the brig was. Instead, we went through a door labeled, “captain”, and it really did look like it was that. Dials, knobs, buttons, all the equipment looked like the real thing. It was a larger area than I realized at first, fit with a bed and small kitchen by the side. In a different scenario I would have called it cute.

My jaw dropped open as the man standing in front of the widows turned to face me. That greying beard, that odd hungry smile, the skin so tough it was like he had been tanned alive. It was the Ahab-looking guy from the banquet.

“What’s going- urrrp, on?” I asked, voice trembling. The captain's smile grew, white teeth parting his beard.

“I like the way you eat, stowaway.”