All Hands on Deck

Zane

Zane got a sticky note on his door: “SUPPLIES.” He groaned.

He was already dressed, so his sailor garb was pointless for more than one reason, now. As he trudged to the back to take inventory, he reminded himself that every job kept the Park running smoothly. His boss liked to compare the place to a ship that needed “all hands on deck at all times”—nevermind that the nearest ocean was at least an hour away by car.

A few minutes in, Zane furrowed his brow at the numbers. He swore there was more last time he did this.

Poultice

After carrying packages back and forth for the last two hours, Poultice knew a rest was well-deserved. She made her way to the cafeteria, grabbed a plate, and piled on as much as she could.

As she sat down, she gave a hearty greeting to her coworkers and asked “How’ve you guys been?”

“I can’t complain,” said Cobra.

“Been better,” said Plank.

Zane gestured to Poultice’s plate. “God, Poultice, that’s why our supplies have gone down!”

That earned him a hard elbow in the rib from Plank. “Asshole.”

“It was a joke!” Zane whined.

Poultice laughed. “I liked Plank’s better.”

Cobra & Plank

Cobra followed Plank to the edge of the park, where Plank showed him his new post atop the wall. It felt much higher than it looked from the ground.

“It’s pretty easy,” explained Plank, “the wall does most of the work for you, and I don’t expect you to do any actual defense. If something is giving you serious trouble, ask for help. And do not shoot at people unless we tell you to. That’s a recipe for disaster.”

Plank grabbed Cobra by the shoulders to keep him from swaying. “You okay there?”

Somewhat stunned, Cobra replied unconvincingly, “I’m fine.”