The broken window in the roof of the submarine threatened to flood the vehicle as the vessel was pulled into the watery vortex. Beryl struggled to get inside the capsized submersible, water dripping from his drenched legs to the floor of the upside-down vehicle.
Beryl clung to the sides of the ship as he spun, trying to prevent his head hitting the instruments and the chair. He hoped that the vessel would not flip upright again as the light vanished from the front window and a final shift in direction sent Beryl crashing to the floor.
Beryl could feel the current had steadied itself and was now flowing swiftly and steadily. He let the coffin drop to his side and curled up next to it and breathed deeply in relief as he felt as if his struggle had come to an end for now. The drifting vessel rocked the exhausted and emotionally drained feline to sleep.
His slumber was interrupted by the sound of muffled ranting coming from the tiny coffin. He had no idea how long he had slept, but he doubted it had been half an hour. There was more light coming in from the window than there had been and the ship was moving faster than before.
Beryl stretched in the restricted space. His muscles ached and he couldn’t ignore his weeks of starvation any longer. There was no place food had been stored, nor did he want to attempt fishing from the hole at the bottom of the upside-down vessel. The only thing that might have food inside it was the tiny coffin Zaros had given him.
It was unlikely, but Beryl held out hope that there were a few voles inside along with whatever else was in there.
The muffled voice coming from it continued to talk, Beryl could barely make out the words ‘almighty’ and ‘worst’ before Beryl started to break open the sealed lid and the voice stopped. The nails came loose slowly until finally Beryl could see within.
Beryl stared at the decaying feline head that returned his shocked gaze. It had two teal colored eyes and a gunshot wound festering on the skull.
“Hah!” The head shouted in triumph. “If you’re supposed to be the ‘Almighty Worst’, then I’m disappointed!”
Beryl forgot his hunger as he stared at the head fearing he knew exactly what he was looking at, “Who are you?”
“Arnold.” Was the angry, challenging reply. “Who are you?”