The seven days agreed upon with Old George had finally arrived. Henry was getting ready to drive out on his own. This time, he didn't need anyone to escort him or make introductions.
Old John was still busy behind the bar, seemingly locked in a never-ending battle with his chores. He glanced at Henry, who was about to leave, and asked, "Are you sure Old George is heading out to sea? Maybe give him a call first—no point making a wasted trip."
"It doesn't matter. I need to see Tom to get my documents anyway. Even if they're not sailing yet, I can still get things in order."
Henry didn't have much to pack. Once you were on a crab boat, showers and clean clothes became irrelevant luxuries. Step onto the deck and within three minutes, you'd be as soaked as if you'd jumped into the ocean.
Raincoats and oilskins were mostly for wind protection—to slow your body temperature from dropping too fast. Staying dry was nothing more than a fantasy.
So, there was no need for spare clothes on board. All necessary tools were provided by the ship. Henry's idea of "preparing" basically meant just showing up.
Still, he took out the money pouch the bank had given him—stashed in the old backpack from Tom. He pulled out a few bills and placed the rest on the bar counter.
"John, this is my last paycheck. Find somewhere safe to stash it. If you need to use it, help yourself."
The old man wrinkled his nose. "Faugh, why don't you deposit that money in the bank instead of dragging it around like a fool?"
"When you found me, I didn't even have a sock to my name. You think someone like me has a bank account? Or the documents to open one? I'm heading to get those today."
"Then why not put it in a bank today, once you've got your documents?"
"I already took the cash out, and they charged me a fee. You think I'm going to hand it back to those vampires just to get hit with another fee later?"
"Anyway, I don't think you're that clever—especially not for a guy who can't tell the difference between Scotch and bourbon."
"How was I supposed to know it was garbage the first time I tasted it? You're the one who tricked me!"
"In short, I'm not touching your fishy money."
"Even if it stinks, it's the smell of king crab. What do you expect me to do, take it on the boat? That'd be a nightmare. Leave it in the car? Might as well gift-wrap it for the thieves. You know how sketchy that southern town is."
As a harbor town active during crab season, it wasn't big like the major fishing ports, but it still attracted all kinds of opportunists.
Not everyone came to work on crab boats. Some catered to the crews, others ran scams, and naturally, there were plenty of petty thieves—and the occasional robber.
Leaving money in the car was a terrible idea. Henry knew it would just be inviting trouble.
Understanding Henry's point, Old John grumbled, "Faugh, what a hassle. Leave it by the register—I'll put it in the safe later."
"Thanks." Henry picked up the now-empty backpack and headed out.
By late October in Alaska, the chill outside could make a man's balls shrivel—even when wearing a coat and cotton pants.
Though Henry had a superhuman body, immune to heat and cold, he could still tell the difference between temperatures. He could easily function shirtless in this weather, but there was no reason to act like a freak in front of everyone else.
So, he wore the kind of clothing any normal person would wear in this kind of weather.
When it came to driving, Henry didn't worry about speed limits or safety regulations. He used his enhanced senses to monitor the road ahead. Confirming there were no cars nearby, he nearly floored the accelerator.
The Ville he'd bought from Tom was a 25-year-old Cadillac, but Tom had taken great care of it. The car had never suffered any major accidents, and it ran surprisingly well.
On this kind of two-lane highway, it could easily top 100 kilometers per hour. Even with icy roads, the tires had decent grip.
With the help of Henry's super senses, the Cadillac cruised smoothly along the highway. It took even less time than his previous trip—just over two hours—to reach the crab season town in the south.
Henry headed straight to the pier, hoping to find Old George.
If they were setting sail soon, he'd wait to get his documents from Tom until they returned. If not, he'd go find Tom right away.
Outside the pier's management office, in the rest area, Henry spotted Old George and the other crew members, including the mutant he'd saved during their last trip.
On closer inspection, one of the older crew members from before was missing. In his place, the mutant had brought another mutant companion.
This new guy was massive—easily over two meters tall and at least 200 kilograms. A proper giant. What made it obvious that he, too, was a mutant were his arms—they were unnaturally thick, even thicker than his legs.
Have you ever seen someone whose arms looked like tree trunks? This guy was built just like that.
Because of his strange proportions, even though his clothes were the right size, everything was sleeveless. Despite the freezing Alaskan weather, he was bare-armed.
Henry had arrived last, but he was still ten minutes early. Since everyone else was already there, George didn't insist on waiting. He stood up and addressed the group:
"Alright, I've got two things to say. First, I contacted the Annie II by radio. Their crabbing progress has been a bit slow. They're scheduled to arrive in port in two days.
"So, two days from now, we'll meet here again at the same time. Once Annie II docks and unloads, we'll take over for inspections and resupply. Everyone clear on that?"
The crew answered in scattered replies: "No problem, boss." "Got it." "Understood."
"Second thing—one of our old guys has taken a captain's job on another boat, so we've brought in a new greenhorn. This big guy's got insane strength—I've seen him lift a crab cage by himself. He's a bit slow in the head though, so take care of him."
"Welcome aboard!" someone called. "Big muscles? That's exactly what we need!"
On crab boats, greenhorns didn't have rights, or even real names. No one cared enough to ask the big guy for his name.
As for him being a mutant, no one batted an eye. That was normal.
Strength was everything on a crab boat. The real danger came from the crab cages swaying in rough seas. If one hit you, you could easily end up with broken bones—or worse.
As Henry knew firsthand, being flung into the ocean wasn't an uncommon accident. Having someone physically strong on board could prevent a lot of disasters.
Truthfully, Henry was sure he was stronger than this new mutant. But since he looked "normal," he kept his powers under wraps and simply joined the rest of the crew in welcoming the new guy.
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