Plastic Sea — What's Left, Página 18
Por Inkroost · Publicado em
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Transcrição
Panel 1: Blazing afternoon. Empty, glittering sea in every direction. Roka, tiny in the orange ring float, shouts with all his strength. Roka: 'BIBER! KABAK!' Panel 2: He paddles with one hand, Bamya's yellow duck in the other, his voice going hoarse. Roka: 'Bamya...!' 'Anybody!' Panel 3: Close: Roka slaps the water, his face crumpling. Roka: 'Answer me...'
Descrição da imagem
Alone in the orange float on an empty afternoon sea, Roka shouts for his friends, paddles with the yellow duck in hand, and slaps the water as his voice breaks.
Sobre este capítulo
In the dark at the bottom of the sea, something is counting. On Candyreef, a candy-coloured island of floating trash, Roka wakes to a water bag in the face from his street crew, lifts breakfast from the old woman who would have fed him anyway, and tells the kid who follows him that he doesn't owe anybody. Then the gulls lift all at once, and a Maw eats half the island. A day and a night alone at sea later, the Garden Ship fishes him out and orders him to walk its treadwheels for fish heads. Roka is nobody's slave, so he goes looking for something to steal instead, and breaks into a barnacled case dredged from the seabed. The silver dust inside climbs into his arm and says hello. It is polite. It is curious. It wants every human dead. And it has just started counting again.