Three Men in a Boat. To Say Nothing of the T-Killer

Dangerous fishing. — The regatta of the upper extremity. — Unregistered participants. — A breakneck race. — Shipwreck. — The boat is towed away. — Repair of the old boat at the price of a new one. — The knowledge to build a shelter from materials you have at hand. — The trip is in danger. When everything was ready for the participation in the regatta, the B Lymphocyte promised the others to show his wonder of technology, a unique system of sails, created specifically for their boat, in action on the next river section. But before doing that, he had the burning desire to demonstrate something else: the newest super-fishing rod he had brought with him half-finished and on which he had worked during some of their breaks. Now it was finally brought to perfection, and he was bragging that with it, he would catch the biggest fish in history. Actually, the B Lymphocyte considered himself a man of many talents and didn't see any necessity to hide them nor to waste his time with modesty, much less with false one. His companions laughed at him, saying "well, well", and started watching him, curious for the result, and obviously expecting to mock him some more. They got into the boat. Dendritic Cell poured everyone who wanted tea from a thermos bottle and handed out the remaining cookies the macrophages had given them. The B Lymphocyte installed his super-fishing rod on top of the boat's nose into a holder specially designed for it and secured it with a lock to be on the safe side. When his friends asked him how he pretended to cast it into the water like that, he just grinned and showed his special hook-thrower, created for precisely that purpose. Like this, it wasn't necessary to swing the giant rod, instead he only had to insert the hook with the bait into the device that looked like a crossbow and shoot it into the right direction. Equipping the hook with a thick piece of nutrient that should serve as bait, he loaded the thrower with it and carefully took aim, wanting to shoot it out as far as possible. To his audience's slight annoyance, everything went well: the hook didn't tear apart from the fishing line, didn't snag on the amateur fisher's pants and even flew as far as planned. Disappointed by his luck, the other three just went back to drinking tea and eating cookies, while the B Lymphocyte made himself comfortable on a box and started waiting for some fish to hook on. It was quiet, nothing happened. The cells finished their tea, loaded the remaining baggage into the boat, and intended to untie the rope it was moored with. But the boat abruptly started to jerk, then to shake, and then to swing from side to side. The B Lymphocyte, who already had averted his gaze from the swimmer in the meantime, suddenly realized what was happening: "Something's biting!" Everything calmed down for a few seconds, but after that, the jerking and swinging got even worse, the swimmer started to twitch like crazy and the rod sagged, threatening to break. It seemed to be a really huge fish. The biggest in the history of fishing, nothing else. Since the rod was about to pop out of the holder, the B Lymphocyte clang to it with an iron grip, determined to not let his prey get away. However, every attempt to reel in the fishing line was fruitless: the tension was so strong that it was absolutely impossible to do anything. When the boat started shaking and swinging even more than before, the other three suggested him to let go of the rod for the basophilic grandma's sake. But the B Lymphocyte refused, saying that he won't give up that easily and let go of his beloved creation. And they should better help him, by the way, instead of just standing there. Memory Cell tried to do that, grabbing the rod as well and attempting to pull it into his direction. The next thrust made our adventurers fall down on the bottom of the boat, and they started using inappropriate language directed at the B Lymphocyte, his fishing rod and his dumb idea to start fishing in the first place. And when the following came, the T-Killer, who had managed to get back on his feet, asked what kind of damn creature was biting the hook and shaking their boat like that. "True," agreed the Dendrocyte. "What is this thing?" He climbed on top of the boat's nose, joining the B cells, and grabbed the super-rod as well. The T-Killer, in the meantime, had found an improvisational club and got ready to whack the unknown being that had the audacity to shake their boat. While the first three were struggling to drag out the creature, the latter pulled so powerfully that the rope, to which the boat was tied, was stretched to such an extent that it tore apart. The boat was now free and, pulled by an unknown force, flew up with joy and then dashed off with everything the sails could take, reaching a velocity it had never experienced before. The T-Killer was left with no other choice than to let go of his club and rush to control the sails, keeping them to the wind, since it was impossible to strike them at the moment. To make this task easier for him, Dendritic Cell returned to the boat's stern and started operating the tail-mounted rudder. Like this, they managed to compensate the agonizing nose of the boat and to level it out. The B Lymphocyte somehow managed to additionally fasten the rod, so it wouldn't pop out for sure, and started thinking about a way to get out the creature he had on the hook. Memory Cell suggested throwing more bait into the water, in order to distract the fish, then reel the line in and catch the raging prey with a scoop net. Since no one had a better idea anyway, the B Lymphocyte agreed. He took out a packaged nutrient, cut off a big piece of it and threw it in... His surprise couldn't be described with words when a giant something jumped out of the water, not resembling a fish in the slightest except for the fins. Memory Cell dropped the scoop net he was holding in his hands. "Holy mother stem-cell," he whispered. "I've never seen anything like that," uttered Dendritic Cell. "I think that's some kind of huge antigen." "Whatever it is, we have to kill it," grumbled the T-Killer between clenched teeth. "I'd like to do an antigen presentation for you, but I need to taste this thing first," commented the Dendrocyte ingratiatingly. "First of all, we need to get it out," said the B Lymphocyte, panting. "I don't know, I don't know... I wouldn't recommend that..." muttered Memory Cell, staring at the monster in horror. "Maybe we should just let it go?" "Never!" And while our adventurers were thinking about what to do with that strange beast, the starting point of the regatta of the upper extremity quickly got closer and closer. The regatta itself had already successfully started, and the public was staring with surprise at the boat of latecomers, as they thought, rushing with the full speed of their sails. Luckily, the path was free, so the "latecomers" didn't crash into anyone. For now, at least. Since the B Lymphocyte was downright refusing to let go of his dangerous catch, Dendritic Cell having the burning desire to study that thing and the T-Killer to kill it, Memory Cell found himself in a minority and was forced to help to hold on to the super-rod, watching with anguish how they were approaching the stern of the last participating boat. Then they caught up with it and passed it... Then they caught up with the next of the last boats, leaving it behind as well... The number of boats in front of them kept increasing more and more, and they heard surprised and outraged shouts from all sides. Someone was screaming out of fear that these devil boaters would crash into them, and someone else was yelling that they were cheating, being towed by an unknown but undoubtedly powerful vehicle. Distracted by these shouts, our four guys didn't notice that they were now leading the regatta. "It seems that we're winning!" exclaimed the B Lymphocyte with joy. "That would be great, if we were registered participants," clarified Memory Cell. "Who cares, we're winning!" insisted the other. "That was unexpected..." said Dendritic Cell, looking at all the boats they had left behind. "But we still have to kill that thing," commented the T-Killer. "First we need to win and take the prize," added the B Lymphocyte, and... And everything would have been great and fantastic, but the long, winding route of the regatta had prepared a surprise for them: a small island directly ahead of them with a giant snag in front of it. The monster that was pulling them managed to jump over, and the boat flew up in the air and after it. Our cellular adventurers shut their eyes tightly, hearing only a splash and a cracking sound, from which Dendritic Cell realized that the tail-mounted rudder had broken. And when the boat had landed at the other side of the island, dangerously tilting and almost filling up with water in the process, he tried to turn it to confirm his suspicion that it didn't work anymore. The rest of the boat was alright at the moment, but it was too early to be happy about the successful jump: a narrow passage was awaiting them. The regatta of the upper extremity was famous for its difficult route, after all, and a lot of experience was needed to participate in it. Wide sections were alternated with narrow ones, and straight parts of the river abruptly changed into sharp turns with a powerful current and rifts. The winner was often determined by the possibility to enter the narrow parts first, that had to be passed not only fast, but also safely. The boat managing to do this was usually the winner. Our four guys hadn't been the best prepared for that regatta in the first place, but in addiction to that, were now racing through it in a boat they practically couldn't control anymore. The hook had sunk so powerfully into the palate of the raging monster that the latter had completely gone crazy. That "fish" rushed forward without caring where it went and dragging the boat after it through the winding parts of the river and directly towards the rifts. From all that shaking, Memory Cell ended up clinging to the mast, the B Lymphocyte hiding under one of the boat's benches and the T-Killer holding an oar between his teeth. Dendritic Cell let go of the broken rudder and crawled towards the boat's nose, determined to cut the fishing line before they could suffer a definitive and irrevocable shipwreck. At some moment it started getting dark over their heads: the trees, growing on both sides of the coast, were leaning too close to the water. Without even having the time to think about how unfortunate that was, they heard a loud crack, accompanied by the sound of tearing fabric. The Dendrocyte, who had managed to fall down more than once, raised his gaze and saw that the mast had suffered the same tragic fate as the rudder: the remains of it were now solitarily protruding out of the center of the boat. One of the torn off sails had flown down and covered the T-Killer and another one was left behind far away, hanging on top of a tree. The upper part of the mast, in the meantime, was swimming behind the boat, trying to catch up with it in vain, while the latter was swinging more and more from side to side, making their food supplies and baggage fall into the water. The B Lymphocyte somehow managed to save his beloved guitar. Dendritic Cell got up, took out a knife and intended to cut the line, but lost his balance and the knife quietly went overboard. "Let me try it," said the T-Killer, getting out from unter the torn sail. He took out his own and started to cut the line. But it absolutely didn't want to give in. "What is this thing made of?" he complained. But then it finally got cut through, painfully slapping the T-Killer on the nose with its "rest", and the unknown huge antigen dashed off without them. But the boat just couldn't stop, instead getting slower, and got dragged to the side until crashing with its nose into the coast. The cells fell out and pulled it a bit further, somehow managed to fasten it and gathered their breath. They were in the middle of nowhere. First of all, they unloaded their remaining possessions and thoroughly examined the boat. The result was unpleasant: apart from the broken mast without which they could manage, and the broken tail-mounted rudder without which they could manage as well but with difficulties, they also lost their oars and got a rip on the underside of the boat, but didn't have anything to repair it with. "Remind me," said the T-Killer to the B-Lymphocyte. "To give you a good punch, the next time you get the idea to catch the biggest fish in history again." * * * The unfortunate "winners" had no clue how much time they spent on that desert island, but to their huge luck, they soon spotted a rescue boat, that had set off when the regatta had ended in order to look for casualties along its route and tow off their broken boats. Usually, they found no less than two or three of these, but this time, our adventurers turned out to be the only ones and they weren't even official participants. They threw the miraculously saved baggage into the rescue boat, got in themselves and, accompanied by the carefree singing of the mustached captain, were watching with sad eyes their damaged boat being dragged after them. The patch they had hurriedly covered the rip with should hold out until the arrival at the repair dock. The boat repairman and his helper pulled out the semiflooded boat, under whose underside's patch the water was entering, carefully examined it, estimated the intensity of the needed repair work and quickly calmed down the owners, saying that they had seen worse. Oh, this? This was nothing! They just had to patch up the bottom, no, better replace it completely, fix the rudder, no, better install a new one and threw out that old wreck to the basophilic grandma before it breaks again, and also put up a new mast. They just had the right mast for that boat, and in addiction to that, very suitable yards and freshly produced sails. Against separate charge, of course. No, not only the sails, the yards as well... And every tenth yard would be for free. What, they didn't need so many? So what? Finally, they showed their clients different oars for every taste, calculated the approximated amount they had to pay for the repair and how long it should take. Dendritic Cell and the other three got the strong impression that it would have been easier, cheaper, and faster to just buy a new boat. But they didn't have any choice, not to mention that the new ones these sly repairmen had to offer, were so expensive that it could be considered a miracle if someone was able to buy one at all. The humble salaries of our four immune system workers were barely enough to pay for the repair. Even after Dendritic Cell had properly bargained for it, sincerely regretting the fact that he didn't possess anything to blackmail these moneymakers. But he did take a photo of them, just in case. And for their remaining money they decided to buy themselves something to eat since their food supplies had gone overboard. Having left part of their belongings with the repairmen (hoping that it remained untouched) and taking with them only the most valuable and essential things, the four of them left to look for the nearest eating place. On their way, the B Lymphocyte started thinking out loud about how great it would have been to fry that giant fish they had let go. That would have been enough food for an entire week! As a reaction to that bold statement, Memory Cell expressed his doubts: they didn't know what kind of fish that was. Maybe it wasn't even a fish at all, but some dangerous pathogen from a very old prophecy. After saying that, he widened his eyes and added that he now happened to remember one that was ancient and very suitable for that case. But the B Lymphocyte widened his eyes even more and interrupted him: "Don't even start!" In the meantime, an eating place appeared in front of them. There, our tired and hungry travelers were quickly recommended to try today's special, which was stew. Hearing the word "stew", they anxiously exchanged gazes. The memories from their last consumption of that dish were still too fresh. But this one was properly prepared, and after the first spoonful they forgot all their distrust and enjoyed it, praising the skills of the local chef. Then they started discussing the continuation of their trip over a glass of protein cocktail, aware that their vacation was in danger of being cancelled. After having thoroughly pondered over their situation, the four cells decided that even despite their involuntary bankruptcy, they could proceed with their adventure without any worry. After all, they could provide for food themselves and also their world wasn't without kindhearted cells. And regarding the question about where they should sleep, they had answers as well: as long as the boat was under repair, they would look for a comfortable place and pitch camp. Good that at least one of the tents was undamaged for sure. Well, as long as the T-Killer didn't decide to assemble it, that's to say. The result of that conversation was so optimistic that they couldn't help but start daydreaming about how they would go for a ride through the systemic circulation after finally leaving behind that annoying upper extremity. Having finished their lunch and not wanting to waste any more time, they set off to search for a place to spend the night. And soon found it. Dendritic Cell decided to gather some firewood and, at the same time, to keep an eye on the place, so that it couldn't be occupied by someone else. And the others left behind the light baggage they had with them and headed back to the repairman to fetch their other, bigger belongings. They really hoped that that cunning guy didn't steal anything. They arrived just in time: the boat repairman and his helper were just having a break and using it to rummage through their customers' things. Examining them and laughing about how much useless stuff the latter had brought with them. But the kettle, that had heroically survived the confrontation with the T-Killer, awoke their interest a bit, just like the B Lymphocyte's guitar, even if it was without strings. The repairman commented that the most valuable thing would be the stove, and burst out laughing together with his helper. When they unexpectedly spotted the owners of the baggage coming back for it, there was an awkward silence. The look on the B Lymphocyte's face, while he ripped his guitar from the hands of the repairman's helper, made them shudder from head to toe. And when they saw the T-Killer's eyes, they shuddered again, but this time into the opposite direction. However, the one taking the cake was Memory Cell: looking like a crazy medium, he started predicting them their nearest, unenviable future if they didn't change their attitude right now and promise to put them up a new mast completely for free. Having been left with no other choice, the repairman and the helper had to admit that it was only fair. After all, they did rip them off already. The T-Killer approvingly patted their shoulders and commented that they were great guys. Then he loaded as much baggage as he could on himself, to not have to go back, and headed to their resting place. The B cells soon followed him, but not without having perforated the repairman and the helper with their looks a bit more. Just to be sure. Having arrived, they laid out all their stuff and discovered that one tent was missing. The one that belonged to the B cells, of all things. And the Dendrocyte's tent needed repair. The B Lymphocyte found a piece of the canvas they had stretched over the boat, calculated something in his mind and suggested using it and Dendritic Cell's torn tent to make a shelter, immediately starting with its construction. Memory Cell helped him wherever he could. They worked a long time with the pieces of the canvas, the ropes, the pegs, the counterweights and other things, struggling to achieve the best stability, protection from the wind and rain, and tried to make the interior as large as possible, so they didn't have to sleep on top of each other at least. When the shelter was ready, they created a floor and invited their companions to test their little house out. Having laid down next to each other, the four of them noticed that although the B cells had tried to make it as spacious as possible, it was still terribly cramped inside. With other words: when the two of them had been measuring the interior of the improvisational hut together, they had thought it to be enough, but now, with the mighty body of the Killer and the tall Dendritic Cell joining them, they realized that they had been wrong. "Let's make the best out of it," Memory Cell tried to comfort the others. "It'll be even warmer that way," said the B Lymphocyte, still a bit unsure, though, since he was pretty much squeezed between Memory Cell and the T-Killer. "It'll be okay," said the T-Killer. "A warrior shouldn't complain about inconveniences like these, he has to be stronger than that." "I absolutely agree!" exclaimed the touched Dendritic Cell and pressed himself closer to him. The T-Killer reacted promptly and punched him in the eye. The B Lymphocyte, who was almost crushed in the process, started screaming at the top of his voice, and the wonderful shelter he had worked on so long together with Memory Cell, almost collapsed. "This stupid T-Helper, forced us to take along that psycho-destroyer," complained the B Lymphocyte, rubbing his hurting ribs. Memory Cell was about to offer him to switch places, but it was too late: suddenly, the ground started shaking, and the shelter fell down on top of our adventurers. As an answer to that, the B Lymphocyte pronounced a word that was barely understandable but definitely needed to be censored, losing its meaning after that occasion forever. After that, it got quiet for a while, and then another small quake came. The battered cells crawled out from under the canvas and looked around, but didn't spot anything dangerous. Then they gathered their things that had rolled away, thinking about what that could have been just now. Memory Cell even tried to remember if something like that was part of any prophecy, but nothing came to his mind. Deciding that he needed more details, he stopped guessing and making up suppositions that were one worst than the other. Blaming it all on the body's loss of balance, he was about to start fixing the fallen down shelter together with his friend. But then, a siren started wailing. "A battle alarm," said the B Lymphocyte, slightly surprised. "That's a bad sign!" exclaimed Memory Cell with worry. "There's trouble somewhere, and we're just standing here," grumbled the T-Killer. "How unfortunate..." uttered Dendritic Cell, approached the tree, under which they had installed their shelter, and suddenly opened a small door in it, taking out a telephone. He chatted a few minutes with another Dendritic Cell, hung up, sighed with grief and said: "There's a giant abrasion near the elbow joint, and a very dangerous infection has entered through it. Sorry, guys, but I'm afraid that we have to cancel our trip." The cells exchanged meaningful gazes. It was a pity that they wouldn't be able to execute their plan of riding through the systemic circulation. Neither the other plans they had. It looked like their vacation had found a sudden and irrevocable end.