Seven Days Later

The seven days Old George had agreed upon were up, and Henry was getting ready to drive out on his own. This time, he didn't need anyone to take him or make introductions.

Old John was still hovering around the bar, looking like he had endless work to do. He watched the man about to leave and asked, "Is Old George sure about heading out to sea? You should call first so you don't waste a trip."

"Doesn't matter. I need to pick up my documents from Tom anyway. Even if we're not sailing, I can still check in on things."

Henry didn't have much to pack. Once you got on a crab boat, no one bothered with showers or clean clothes. The moment you stepped on deck, you'd be soaked through in under three minutes.

Wearing rain gear or a heavy coat was mostly for wind protection, to keep your body heat from draining too fast. Staying dry was a pipe dream.

So there was no need for spare clothes on board, and the boat had all the tools you'd need. For Henry, "getting ready" just meant showing up—nothing else.

Still, he pulled the bank-issued money pouch out of the old backpack Tom had given him, took out a few small bills, and set the whole thing on the bar.

"John, this is my pay from last time. Stash it somewhere safe for me. If you need any, help yourself."

The old man grimaced. "Fuck, why don't you put that money in the bank instead of carrying it around?"

"When you found me, you saw me bare-assed. You think I have a bank account or the documents to open one? I'm picking those up today."

"Fuck, then why not deposit it in that damn account today?"

"I already pulled it out in cash and got hit with a fee. You think I'm dumb enough to hand it back to those bloodsuckers and get charged again when I need it?"

"I never thought you were that bright anyway, you idiot who can't tell Scotch from bourbon."

"First time I ate shit, how was I supposed to know what it tasted like? You're busting my balls, old man."

"Anyway, I don't want to touch your money. It stinks of fish."

"It smells like King Crab, all right. If I don't ask you, what, take it on the boat? That's more trouble. Or leave it in the car? Might as well hand it to a thief. You know how chaotic that town to the south is."

As a dock town that launched boats during crab season, it wasn't as big as the major fishing ports, but it still drew people looking to make a buck.

And their methods weren't limited to crewing crab boats. Some did business with the crew, others ran scams. Of course, there were plenty of petty thieves and occasional robbers too.

So Henry never considered leaving his money in the car—that was just asking for trouble.

Knowing Henry was telling the truth, Old John grumbled impatiently, "Fuck, what a pain. Leave it by the register. I'll put it in the safe later."

"Thanks." Grabbing the emptied backpack, Henry headed out the door.

In late October in Alaska, the outdoor temperature was enough to freeze your balls off, even with a heavy coat and thermal pants.

Henry had a physique like Superman, unfazed by heat or cold, but he could still tell the difference. He could walk around shirtless in this weather and function fine, but there was no need to look that abnormal in front of others.

So he went with the flow, wearing what most people would put on in this weather.

When he was driving himself, he didn't care about speed limits or safe driving. He focused his enhanced senses on the road ahead, and knowing there were no cars for a long stretch, he floored the gas.

The '65 Cadillac DeVille he'd bought from Tom was a 25-year-old car, but the old man had kept it well-maintained, and it had never been in a major accident. The condition was excellent.

On a two-lane highway like this, hitting over a hundred kilometers an hour was easy. The road was icy, but the tires had plenty of grip.

At least with Henry's superhuman senses backing him up, the Cadillac cruised smoothly down the road. He made it to the southern crab-season town in just over two hours, even faster than last time.

Henry headed straight for the dock to meet up with Old George.

If they could sail, he'd call Tom and tell him he'd pick up the documents when they got back to port. If not, he'd go see Old Tom directly.

At the rest area outside the dock office, Henry spotted Old George and the rest of the crew right away, including the mutant kid he'd saved last time.

But counting heads, one of the old-timers from the last trip was missing. Instead, the mutant kid had brought along another mutant buddy.

This big guy had to be over two meters tall and probably weighed two hundred kilos—a proper little giant. The reason Henry could tell he was a mutant was his arms, which were disproportionately thick.

Ever seen a guy with arms thicker than his legs? That was this guy.

Because of his arm proportions, even though his clothes came in the right sizes, he wore them sleeveless. Despite the freezing Alaska weather, his arms were bare.

Henry was the last to arrive, but he was still about ten minutes early, so he wasn't late. Seeing everyone was there, George didn't wait around and stood up to speak.

"First, two things. One, I got in touch with the Annie No. 21 on the radio. They're a bit slow on the crab haul and won't be docking for another two days.

"So, two days from now, we meet here at the same time. Once the Annie No. 21 docks and unloads, we'll take over the maintenance and restocking. Any problems?"

The crew answered in bits and pieces: "No problem, boss." "Sounds good." ...

"Second thing, an old-timer went to captain another boat, so we've brought in a new Greenie. This big guy's got a lot of strength—I've seen him lift a crab pot by himself. But he's a bit slow, so look out for him."

"Oh, welcome, welcome." "Strength is good. Pull your weight on the boat." ...

On a crab boat, a Greenie had no rights—not even the right to be called by name. So no one asked the big guy his name.

As for being welcomed because of his strength, no one cared about his mutant status. That was normal.

Because the most dangerous part of crab boat work was the swinging crab pots when they were hoisted up. If one hit you, you'd be half dead.

Like Henry had experienced firsthand, someone getting yanked overboard was a common accident. Having a guy with that much muscle could prevent a lot of problems.

Truth be told, when it came to strength, Henry was confident he could match the mutant. But his appearance was still within normal human range, and there was no need to expose himself unnecessarily. So he just joined the others in welcoming the new Greenie.

New book requesting follow-up reads, collections, and recommendations. Thank you~~