The Mariner (9 page)

At this Absinth’s head suddenly lurched back, his face contorted and limbs stretched wide as if shocked. Great judders seemed to run up and down his body, throwing his shoulders, spine arched.

The rest watched with horror, but the Mariner had seen this before - when the philosophy teacher had changed. But there were no chains this time, nothing to hold back the Mindless before him. The Mindless that now opened its furious eyes and focused them purely on the Mariner before it.

He ran, hampered by his exhaustion and his wounds, well aware that if it came to a fight he would be easily bested. That thing would tear him to pieces. In a matter of seconds he was out the tent and onto the path back down towards the ocean, fresh air replacing the incense from moments before. His nuts screamed, but their protests were ignored. His legs wailed but their dissent was firmly crushed.

The Oracle had already turned her attention back to her pupils and was soothing their concerns, telling them more anecdotes from their past. No wonder they were transfixed. Stories of the past must seem far more real than this island. Far better to listen than to acknowledge the demon their friend had become, a bloodthirsty creature that now charged after the fleeing ‘Claude’, ‘Cuntface’, ‘Edward’ and ‘John’.

Every step was heavy, legs twisted as they caught roots and slid between stones. Absinth was having just as much trouble, his own body bloodied from countless cuts and gashes endured during the desperate chase.

The Mindless didn’t care though.

The Mindless didn’t think.

The Mariner reached the beach, his running becoming even more sluggish in the sand. Legs skidded and sank, knees twisting to even more uncomfortable angles. Flailing, he turned to look, to see if the zombie was still following. He was close, a picture of demented fury, though there were no thoughts behind that twisted face, only animal hate.

And then, popping into his head like ink from an octopus, the Mariner remembered a conversation he’d had with a poor murdered lady, many moons before. “Who was Winston Churchill?”

Absinth’s face suddenly went slack and he ground to a halt, just a few yards away.

“He’s er...” said Absinth, scratching his head. “He was the Prime Minister during the Second World War.”

The Mariner didn’t know whether his answer was true or not, but he did know the old man was back to his old self. The Mindless creature was gone, locked away from where it had emerged.

They stood in silence whilst Absinth blinked stupidly. He turned, looked at the gorge behind. “How the hell did I get down here?”

“She made you into one of the Mindless. She stole a memory and told it back, making you think she knew everything. She knows
nothing
. She’s just a thief, stealing your thoughts, then telling them back. You’ve got a gap now, a hole in your head where the memory used to be. If you ever try to remember it, you’ll become Mindless again. You will fall into that gap and become trapped.”

Absinth stared in stunned disbelief.

“She’s not the Oracle then?”

“No.”

“What happened to the others?”

The Mariner looked up the gorge and shook his head. “She’ll have taken even more by now. It’s probably too late. Besides, why should I care?” He turned and headed for the boat. Grace, full from her meal, bounded over, eager to return to the ship now she’d had her fill.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going back to the Neptune. There’s still answers out there and I need to find them.”

“Let me come with you,” the old man pleaded. “We’ll be a great team, you and I.”

“No,” and then he repeated the question he’d asked before. “Why did you come here?”

The old man appeared as lost as any child. “The world’s changed, Claude. I used to work in insurance. Do you know what that is?”

The Mariner shook his head. He didn’t.

“Then one day, the world just... came apart. It’s like I’ve fallen asleep and I can’t navigate my way out of the dream. There’s just ocean out there, and tiny fragments of the world I once knew.”

“I never knew a world, but I envy you for it.”

“I know where we can go to get supplies. A cave, not far from Brighton, but well hidden. All the tobacco you could want. And drink too. Wine, spirits, beer. Anything!”

The Mariner paused, tempted. The mention of wine had turned his stomach and itching had begun throughout his system. He shook his head, sad and uncertain. “Nothing’s changed, Absinth. We are incompatible.”

The old man reached into his pocket and pulled out a pistol. The Mariner jumped, sure in the notion that the old man meant the bullet for him, but instead he pointed it at Grace and pulled the trigger. The bullet passed through the Tasmanian devil’s back, severing her spine. It was so quick she didn’t even have time to yelp. Grace collapsed, her breaths laboured and weak, her eyes confused and in pain. They rolled up to the Mariner, begging for her master to take the agony away.

Not like this
, her eyes pleaded.
Not out of the blue
.

And slowly, too slowly for any conscious being to tolerate, she died, losing her grip on the world.

“We
weren’t
compatible,” Absinth beamed. “But
now
we are!”

The Mariner slowly nodded, looking at his new shipmate, a member of the crew through dead-devil’s boots.

“And now we are.”

9
TWO MEN ON THE SEA

A
BSINTH AWOKE WITH A SORE
head. There had been a fair amount of drinking, a celebration to have survived the island and its cursed Oracle.

He’d tried to convince the Mariner that they should take his ship, a faster modern vessel, but the Mariner had insisted that they use the Neptune. “Only she can find the true Oracle,” he’d said.

So instead they had simply plundered Absinth’s, grabbing his alcohol, tobacco, bullets and bread. He had a good feeling about this union. The Mariner was crazy, and badly damaged, but he was also sharp. He would get Absinth to all the places other people couldn’t. And those are the places where riches are found. Who knows, perhaps they would even find this ‘
true
Oracle’ of his?

They had drunk and sung together beneath the stars and thanked the heavens they were still alive.

So why, when he’d fallen asleep outside, did he now awake somewhere below deck? He was in one of the galleys, his arms and legs shackled to the wall.

“This used to be a prison ship. You told me that.” The Mariner had been sitting in the shadows opposite, waiting for Absinth to awake.

“What’s going on?” the old man slurred.

“Since you told me, I’ve begun hearing them. Sometimes I can hear them crying out for food, other times they’re being whipped. Always screaming. I think most of them never got where they were being taken. They’re still here somewhere.”

His eyes roamed the dark room, as if emaciated ghosts lurked in every shadow.

“I didn’t need you to tell me it was a prison ship though, I knew it all along. I knew. This is my prison. I don’t know why, but it is.”

Absinth looked at the Mariner, and, not for the first time, wondered who he was. “The Oracle slipped up because she didn’t know who you were?”

The Mariner slowly nodded, “She couldn’t guess my name because I don’t even know it, so when she took the memory of Claude having killed Isabel, she thought it safe to tell you. There was no Claude in the room. No danger.” He shook his head and coughed out a brief chuckle. “She was a trap, Absinth. A lie. When we met, I told you I was looking for an island, circled by a protective force, on which all the answers could be found. You’re the one who spoke of an Oracle. I think now, that was all bullshit. That woman up there, the coral, the eels around it, even that whole island, all just a decoy, another distraction to keep me from the truth.”

“What truth?”

“I don’t know.”

The Mariner got up and went for the door.

Absinth was afraid, no worse, petrified. He was sure the man meant to leave him in the darkness, alone with the ghosts and the rats. “I’ve seen the way you look at drink! You need it don’t you? It was the reason you let me on board. You leave me and I won’t help you find any more. You won’t see another drop for years!”

“I deserve to go thirsty. And that’s not the reason you’re aboard this ship.”

“You’re going to keep me captive down here?”

“Everyone I get close to, I end up hurting. Even poor Grace. I hurt her because I couldn’t take back the pain you’d caused. I couldn’t tell her everything would be alright.”

Absinth trembled, seeing for the first time how horribly he’d hurt the man by killing his pet. “Listen, I’m sorry I killed your rat. Okay? I’m sorry!”

But the Mariner didn’t hear. “I used to think I was being punished, put on this ship as some sort of penance for past sins. I no longer think that’s true. The Neptune is being punished, just as I. We’re stuck together, two monsters in the same cell. The punishment’s the world, not the boat. I can’t remember the horrors I committed. Does the Neptune, I wonder?” He looked around the room with haunted eyes and now Absinth was sure the Mariner
could
see ghosts, even if just in the confines of his own demented skull. He focused back on Absinth and gave a weary smile, in a strange way intending comfort. “I’ll take the blame Absinth. Let the fault lie with me.”

The Mariner opened the door and half stepped through.

“Then let me go! Take me back to my ship, I’ll be gone, you’ll never see me again. Listen, you crazy fucker, don’t leave me alone down here!” Absinth looked about nervously, terrified at the notion he could be left down in the belly of the Neptune, alone but for the ghosts of murdered convicts. “Let me out!”

The Mariner paused. “I’m sorry Absinth, but no. This ship is like me. I have demons within. The eels made that perfectly clear. I don’t know where those demons came from, but they’re there. This ship has some too. We’ve a lot in common, her and I. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us, and her devils need to eat.”

“Devils? What devils?” But the Mariner was already gone.

And in the darkness, it were not ghosts, but a dozen furry bodies that began to emerge, hunger overriding their cautiousness.

Absinth screamed and kicked as best he could, but he’d been secured tight. The Neptune was, after all, a prison ship. In her time she had ferried convicts and slaves, monsters and madmen. Those who sailed within her soon learned that their journey was not one of geography, but misery.

And Absinth Alcott embarked upon his own voyage as Grace’s brood began to feed.

A time-line burnt into a stone
I carve up myself when I’m alone
I’ve got a tiger arm