Chapter 5: Into the Blue

Mumbai was unlike any place I’d ever seen - teeming with life, a cacophony of sounds, smells, and colours that hit you the moment you stepped off the plane. The city was chaos, pure and simple, but there was an underlying rhythm, an order that only made sense once you surrendered to it. The streets were a sensory assault, a blur of motion and noise that left me feeling frayed at the edges, and out of place. But that was part of this whole journey, wasn’t it? Discomfort was the price of stepping into the unknown.

We holed up in a small, nondescript hotel tucked away on one of the city’s narrow streets. The room was basic - just a bed, a chair, a desk, and a ceiling fan that barely stirred the hot, humid air. But luxury wasn’t the point.

The plan was simple on paper: we needed a helicopter. In Mumbai, if you knew where to look, you could find anything for the right price - even a chopper with a dubious history. Clyde took the lead during the negotiations, his mechanical knowledge giving him the upper hand. The seller, a wiry man with a crooked smile, looked like he’d sell his own mother if the price was right. They went back and forth, Clyde pressing hard, but the seller was no pushover. His smile widened as Clyde’s frustration grew, his words coming faster, sharper.

I stood by, the city’s relentless energy seeping into me, making my nerves hum. Slade, however, was unnervingly calm, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed, looking almost bored. His detachment made me uneasy; he was too relaxed, too at ease in a situation that could go sideways any second.

The haggling stretched on, the air in the room thick with tension. Clyde was nearing his breaking point. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing, he leaned in, his voice low and dangerous. “Enough of this bullshit,” he growled, fists curling at his sides. I could see it - Clyde was on the edge, ready to snap. The seller’s grin only grew wider, sensing the shift.

Before I could react, Clyde lunged forward, his hand shooting out as if to grab the man by the throat. The seller flinched, his bravado faltering, but then, in a move that caught us both off guard, Slade stepped between them. He placed a hand on Clyde’s chest, gently but firmly holding him back. “Easy,” Slade said, his voice calm, almost soothing. “We’re not here to start a war.”

Clyde froze, his eyes locked on Slade’s. The room seemed to hold its breath. I half expected Slade to crack a joke, but instead, he turned to the seller, his expression suddenly serious. “We’re not here to waste time either,” he said quietly. “Give us a fair deal, and we walk away happy. Otherwise, we’ll find someone else who will.”

The change in Slade was startling. Gone was the laid-back, almost flippant attitude I’d grown used to. In its place was a sharp, controlled presence that demanded attention. Even Clyde seemed taken aback, his anger cooling as Slade held his gaze.

The seller’s smirk faded. He eyed Slade warily, then nodded, relenting. “Fine,” he said, his tone less confident now. “You’ve got a deal.”

Clyde stepped back, breathing heavily, his fists unclenching. The seller tossed us the keys with a grudging nod, clearly eager to end the encounter. As we walked away, Clyde muttered under his breath about “shoddy work” and “a death trap,” while Slade resumed his nonchalant demeanour, whistling a tune I didn’t recognize. The tension of the moment had passed, but the memory of Slade’s unexpected intervention lingered in my mind, unsettling and intriguing.

The next morning, we were in the air.

Clyde took the controls, his earlier agitation replaced by a steely focus. The first ten minutes were tense, the helicopter lurching slightly as he adjusted to its quirks. But gradually, he relaxed, the machine becoming an extension of his will. His earlier outburst was forgotten, replaced by a determination that bordered on obsession.

We flew out over the Indian Ocean, leaving the chaos of Mumbai behind. The ocean stretched out beneath us, endless and indifferent, a shimmering blue that seemed to go on forever. Slade, in the back, was guiding us with the coordinates he’d uncovered, a self-satisfied grin on his face. The sea was calm, as if it too was holding its breath, waiting to see what we would do next.

Two hours in, the mood shifted.

The fuel gauge was lower than any of us were comfortable with, and Clyde’s calm started to crack. He kept glancing at the dashboard, his knuckles white on the controls. “We’re running low,” he muttered. “We need to turn back, or we’re gonna be swimming.”

I tried to keep my voice steady, to project a confidence I didn’t feel. “Just keep going,” I said. “Slade knows what he’s doing. We’re close.”

Slade, of course, was the picture of calm. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying himself, a low, almost manic laugh escaping his lips as he leaned forward. “Relax,” he said, grinning like a kid who knew something the adults didn’t. “We’re right on target. You’ll see.”

Clyde’s patience was wearing thin. “If you don’t shut up and give me a real direction, I swear… ” he started, his voice shaking with barely restrained anger.

But before he could finish, Slade leaned forward, pointing out at the horizon. “There!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “There she is!”

I followed his finger, and there, rising from the endless blue, was the unmistakable silhouette of a ship. A massive tanker, rusted and weathered but undeniably real. The Leviathan.

For a moment, none of us spoke. The sight of the ship brought a sudden, overwhelming sense of reality crashing down on us. This was no longer a fantasy, no longer some abstract idea we’d toyed with in dark rooms and forgotten airport lounges. The Leviathan was real, and she was right in front of us.

As we flew closer, the details became clearer. The ship was enormous, a hulking relic of another time, abandoned and adrift in the vast emptiness of the ocean. She loomed in the water like a ghost, her steel hull scarred by time and the relentless assault of the elements. The closer we got, the more the sheer scale of it all began to sink in.

The helicopter’s engine droned on, a steady hum that felt almost insignificant against the immensity of what we were seeing. Clyde guided us in closer, his earlier distrust replaced by a solemn focus. Slade, for once, was silent, his earlier bravado replaced by something that almost resembled reverence.

As for me, I found myself lost in thought, my mind racing ahead to what this would mean. This was our chance to start anew, to leave everything behind and step into a world that no one else knew existed. But it was also a moment of profound uncertainty. What were we getting ourselves into? What did this ship represent? Freedom, escape, a new beginning - or something darker, something that would change us in ways we couldn’t yet understand?

The Leviathan was no longer just a myth, a story whispered in dark corners. She was real, and she was waiting for us. As we circled above her, preparing to land, the weight of what we were about to do settled over us, wrapping us in a heavy, oppressive silence.

The helicopter descended, and with it, any lingering doubts were swept away by the enormity of what lay ahead. We were committed now, bound to this ship, this plan, this new life. There was no turning back.

And in that moment, as the Leviathan loomed larger and larger beneath us, I knew that whatever happened next, we were all in.