Sea Salt (2Doc)

CHAPTER 1: Strange

"Will that be all?" Murdoc asked the sailor, arms folded. "Plenty, thanks," He replied with a toothy grin, grasping the crate of supplies in both arms. "Thanks for all your help, mate. My wife and I owe you one." He said as he shook one of Murdoc's calloused hands. "Not a problem," Murdoc answered, holding back the urge to push the guy off the jetty, what with his gross display of gratitude to a complete stranger like him, but hey, he gave them supplies when they had none, so he expected it.

And with that, the sailor boarded his boat and thanked Murdoc once more before he raised the sails and unhooked the anchor. Momentarily, the sailor's wife popped up from the cabin and mouthed a "call me" while mimicking a phone with her hand as she winked at Murdoc. He winked back with a flirtatious grin, which, luckily for him, her husband did not see. Soon, the white boat sailed off, shrinking as it disappeared into the dark blue.

Sighing, Murdoc made his way back towards his lighthouse. Pulling open the door, he climbed the weathered, metal flight of stairs to his quarters. The clanging sounds of his footsteps reminded him of how vast and also how lonely this place can be. The only real company he gets are seabirds and the occasional washed-up jellyfish. And if he was really lucky, some hopeless ship lost at sea comes across his not-so-humble abode to stay the night or to stock up on supplies, like today. Female ship companions are a bonus, of course, which he indulged in when he doesn't get caught.

It didn't always use to be like this, though. He was once an ambitious and reckless sea dog who had seen better days. Once, he was thrown in jail for sinking a whaling ship off the coast of Japan and another time was when he allegedly 'stole' orcas from a Sea World to release them into the Pacific Sea. He's been there, done that. Seen it all, done it all.

But now, he was just known as that disgruntled lighthouse keeper who lives at the furthest point away from any landmass. Away from any living person. Away from all those sodding, carefree tossers. Don't they know what they were doing to the ocean with all their littering and dumping of rubbish and waste? Murdoc recalled the other week where he was scrubbing a distraught pelican, coated head to toe in black oil and other gunk. His blood boiled at the thought of whoever caused another oil spill.

He was growing tired of humanity and its lack of fucks given. This was why he decided to live out here on his own. At least here he could have some sort of control. Yeah, he could create a non-governmental organisation for environmental protection, but where would he get the money? Where would he get the support? Who would listen to a jailbird like him?

Lying in his bed, Murdoc took a swig of whiskey from the dark green bottle in his hand. The sounds of waves crashing against the rocks outside below soothed his headache, yet filled him with a sense of emptiness. Unfulfillment.

Closing his eyes, he flicked through a mental album of all the people who came upon his lighthouse. The men and women only stayed for the sex and nothing else. When he would even so mention his maritime activist days, they would either force a smile or call him a hippy. So, he often refrained from boasting about his adventures and wanted them to leave as soon as possible.

The lighthouse keeper craved something more than the casual hookup from people he never saw again. He wanted companionship. Even if it was just a friend. Never in his life had he met anyone who fit that category of 'genuine'. People were selfish and too caught up in their own lives to be aware of the bigger picture. He would often wonder how long it would take before our planet would no longer tolerate humanity and force them to evacuate to another planet like Mars or something.

Murdoc let out a hefty breath, hanging his arm off the side of his bed, swishing the remains of the whiskey in the bottle. In an alcoholic haze, sleep overtook him and he blacked out.