As I spend my days sailing up and down the coast, drowning myself in bourbon to ease the anguish and pain of my history things slowly start to go bad. First the old town drunk that I sometimes drank with drowns on the beach, when I know for a fact he hated water- swimming, showering or otherwise.
Then I go to the Marina to take my yacht out and find her half under water, oil quietly lapping at her once pristine white stern. Of course, no one knows what happened.
As things continue to fall apart it all starts to get surreal fast, going from an old German star chart, to a giant airliner falling from the sky, to a mysterious old submarine with more gold in it than anyone could ever imagine, guarded by people from long ago and far away...
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