Chapter 2: Slade

The next round of interviews tested my patience. Five more candidates, five more failures. A programmer who talked too much, a drifter who barely talked at all, a woman who kept eyeing the exits like she was expecting someone to bust in and haul her away. Each one walked away leaving me more convinced that finding the Leviathan was a fool’s errand. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be found.

Then Slade stumbled in.

I noticed him before he even got to the table. He was in an argument with the bartender, his voice a mix of frustration and panic. He knocked over a champagne ice bucket, and for a moment, it looked like he might walk right back out the door. But he didn’t. He saw me, took a deep breath, and made his way over with a hurried, almost erratic energy. His handshake was sweaty, his eyes slightly wild behind a mop of thick hair that kept falling into his face.

"Mark?" he asked, as if he wasn’t entirely sure he was in the right place.

"That’s me," I replied, not quite sure what to make of him.

He sat down heavily, wiping his hands on his jeans - jeans that were too loose and shoes that looked like they hadn’t been properly tied in weeks. His shirt was clean, but the collar was askew like he’d thrown it on in a hurry. Everything about him seemed dishevelled, from his appearance to the way he talked, words tumbling out of his mouth faster than his brain could process them.

"I can do it," Slade said, almost immediately. "I can find the ship. It’s not a problem."

I blinked. "You’re sure?"

"Yeah, yeah. No problem. I’ve been into this stuff for years - tracking things, and solving puzzles. The ocean’s just another data set, really. Give me a few weeks, and I’ll have the coordinates."

He sounded confident, but there was something off about him - an intensity that bordered on mania. I had my doubts. But then again, I needed someone who could find the Leviathan, and Slade was the first person who didn’t baulk at the challenge.

"Tell me about yourself," I said, trying to get a read on him. "Why are you here?"

Slade leaned back, running a hand through his hair, which promptly fell back into his eyes. "I don’t fit in anywhere," he said. "I’ve tried - believe me, I’ve tried. But people... they’re complicated. I like things that make sense - code, patterns, algorithms. I’ve spent most of my life in front of a screen, diving into stuff that most people wouldn’t understand. My parents - they were the only ones who got me, who didn’t think I was crazy."

He paused, and for a moment, something dark flickered in his eyes. "They’re gone now. House fire. I don’t talk about it."

I nodded, not pressing further. Slade’s pain was raw, and I could see why he’d be drawn to something like this - an escape, a way to channel his energy into something bigger than himself.

"Look," I said, leaning forward, "this isn’t just about finding the ship. It’s about disappearing, starting over. If you’re in, you can’t tell anyone. Not a word. And if you can’t find the Leviathan, then this whole thing falls apart. You get that, right?"

For the first time, Slade’s jittery demeanour seemed to calm. He looked me in the eye, and I saw a flash of something I hadn’t seen before - focus, determination.

"I get it," he said, his voice steady. "I won’t tell anyone. And I’ll find it. I promise."

There was something in his voice that made me believe him, despite all my doubts. Slade might have been a mess, but he was the kind of mess that could get things done. And somehow, I knew he was the guy for the job.

"Alright," I said, extending my hand again. "You’re in."

Slade shook my hand, a look of peace settling over him for the first time that day. As he left the bar, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the pieces were finally starting to come together. Clyde, Slade, and me - three men with nothing left to lose, bound by a shared desire to escape, to find something lost, to disappear into the unknown.

The Leviathan was out there, waiting for us. And soon, we’d be on our way to find her.