Somewhere, Beyond The Sea

by koelin28

Summary:

"Somewhere, beyond the sea,
Somewhere waiting for me..."

 

Eric made it out of Manhatten alive, and made it onto the boat, but where will the currents of the sea take him?
(As long as he follows Frodo, he'll be fine.)

Notes:

Joseph Quinn Try Not To Play A Gay Character Challenge- Level: Impossible

Chapter 1: The Boat

The boat was full; the packed-in people moving like the choppy water around them. One person would move, and the surrounding people would shift, and then the people after them would too, and then again, until the humans at the edges would slam against the barriers at the sides, like waves crashing across the shore. Then, in a clamour of hands, the others would reach for them, desperately pulling them back inwards.

Eric allowed himself to be lulled by the currents of people as he stood amidst the crowd, keeping an eye out for Frodo the cat- He had scampered off when Eric had got up about an hour ago. After spending all that energy in his epic escape from the city, he had passed out, wrapped in a warm blanket with Frodo on his chest like a little heater. He must've slept for hours. He sighed, still dishevelled. Frodo would surely make his way back to him eventually if he was patient, that was the way with that cat, Sam had said. He sighed again, resolved to wait, and stiffly wrapped the cool, damp fabric of Sam's yellow cardigan tighter around himself as the crowd swayed to the left. He was much drier now, only the thick fabric of the cardigan wet against his skin. It was a pleasant sensation in the hot sea of people.

All the faces of the people around Eric were varying shades of a gaunt grey. Shortly after they had left the harbour successfully, there must've been a mad rush for the boats, because the noise on that shoreline grew and grew. The Things That Listen came. The cries only got louder. The screams attracting more and more of those Things.

Twelve boats were meant to have left the harbour that morning. The boat Eric was on had been one of only two.
It had been hours, and the Things That Listen couldn't reach them, yet the atmosphere was still heavy, and the silence still hung. The weight of survival bore down on all left...

Who were you to live whilst others died?

Eric thought of Sam. Of her tired smile and her clever eyes.

He had to keep on living.

Chapter 2: The Shore

The shore inched closer as the sun sunk lower in the sky. Finally, the boat came to a stop about twenty metres out from dry land, the hull scraping along the sand as it beached itself. Eric felt he was dreaming, the setting sun casting a pinkish glow over the scenery. Dazed, he gazed around the small bay where the population of the two boats were to unboard after the long journey around Long Island. The short space between the boat and the shore stretched out like an ellipsis... In tight silence, Eric held his breath and waited. The only sound was the slight shifting of feet and the gentle waves lapping at the sides of the boat.
Eric's throat was dry, and he swallowed awkwardly in an attempt to rehydrate it. His skin felt hot and he could feel his blood pumping in his hands. He couldn't deal with the waiting. He couldn't.
But to his surprise, he didn't have to suffer for long- there was a small commotion towards the bow of the boat. Soon, a woman was climbing over the railing and sliding down into the water. Fearlessly, she waded through the water towards the shore. Eric could see her rumpled blue scrubs, her tied-back hair loose and knotted. A nurse. Eric could hear every movement she made: every slosh of water, every shift of sand as she walked up the bank. Slowly, she looked around the area with a tense sort of disinterest. Putting her hand on her hip, still not facing the crowd, she let out a long whistle, then clicked her tongue a few times.
Tut. Tut. Tut.
The sound pierced through Eric as he cringed at the loudness.
The whole crowd braced, anticipating. Yet, the expected pandemonium didn't come; instead, there was a wild sense of relief. Murmurs rose from the crowd, even a whoop. The nurse raised her hands above her head in a sort of celebration, a humourless smile on her face.

Gradually, the assembly of people left the large boat down the small gangway someone had pulled out. Eric, towards the back, watched as the crowd poured off the boat like a leak in a bucket. He was in no rush, still keeping an eye out for Frodo. After a little time, Eric was by the gangway amidst the last group of people to leave the boat. Now closer, he could see there was a guy lent over, holding part of the gangplank that appeared to be broken while helping people down as they disembarked. And there, lying happily across this man's shoulders, was Frodo, purring away.
Eric froze at the railing, dumbstruck. He raised a finger to point at the cat and stared. When the man he was pointing at raised a light eyebrow at him in question, he managed to choke out, "Frodo." In a hoarse voice.
The guy's confused face immediately morphed into a handsome smile.
"Oh, this is your cat, is it?" He mused, his voice deep and well-rounded, his accent distinctly Welsh, surprising Eric further.
He fastened part of the barrier and let go of the part he had been holding onto, moving off the gangplank towards Eric. Swiftly, he grabbed the cat off his wide shoulders, chucking the peeved Frodo back into Eric's arms like a sack of potatoes.
"He's lovely he is." He said, giving one last rub over Frodo's black and white fur.
Eric looked down at Frodo in his arms and back up at the man a couple of times.
"Yes, he is." Eric replied after a beat. He carded a hand through Frodo's soft fur and sighed. It was a relief to have the cat back in his arms.
"Do you reckon he's hungry?" The handsome stranger asked, pulling a key out from one of the pockets of his blue jeans.
Eric chuckled hesitantly. "He's always hungry."
The guy broke out into a smile, his freckled face stretching. "Follow me." He said and started towards a staircase going below deck. "The name’s Owen, by the way." He called over his shoulder as he jogged down the clanging metal steps.
Eric couldn't find it in himself to make as much careless noise as Owen did, despite the hubbub of people leaving the boat. So, he made his way down the stairs after Owen cautiously. Patient, Owen was waiting for him in the corridor of the small underdeck. Eric followed him down to a door which Owen unlocked with his key. Inside was a sort of storage room with low ceilings and packed shelves lining two of the walls.
He pulled a spool of rope down and slung it across his chest like a sash, then crouched down where a row of buckets sat under the bottom shelf.
"You're the one who dived off the dock, aren't you?" Owen queried as he pulled a bucket towards himself and peered down into it. "Happy you made it, mate."
Eric chuckled awkwardly from where he was standing behind Owen's crouched form. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Yeah, I guess that was me."
Owen lifted the bucket triumphantly. "Aha, this is it," He shared, tilting the blue bucket towards Eric so he and Frodo could see. There were small fish piled in the bottom of the vessel.
"I think it was just gonna be used as bait, but I'm sure he'll appreciate it." Owen suggested, nodding his head towards Frodo.
Eric nodded gratefully, "Thank you, thank you, that'll be perfect."
Eric smiled. He wouldn't feed Frodo it all, at least not all at once. He'd get fat like Sam warned he would.
Owen leaned back on the shelf, looking at Eric and Frodo with a small smile. He was obviously proud of his own quick thinking to get the cat a meal.
"So this is Frodo," Owen said, pointing at the cat, "What was your name then?" He asked, his dark eyes meeting Eric's in question.
"Eric, I'm Eric." Eric managed to stammer out. He couldn't read this situation at all. Was what he thought was happening happening?
The smile stayed on Owen's face as he maintained eye contact with Eric. Perhaps it was an acknowledgement between two Brits, both stranded in the US at the end of the world.
Whatever it was, it ended when Owen's name was shouted from above, calling for him to assist. Both men looked up towards the source of the noise, Owen grasping the rope on his person like he just remembered what he was meant to be doing. In a rush, he grabbed a few extra pieces of kit off the shelves.
Eric put together that Owen must be a member of the crew. The man in question grinned sheepishly and moved towards the door.

"Come on then Eric, we best catch up with everyone else now that's sorted.”