The Mariner (8 page)

He dropped onto his back and stared at the sky.

They had made it.

Unlike her human counterpart, Grace had already forgotten the hardships of the swim to shore, and was harassing a large crab she thought looked like dinner. She’d dart towards it, snapping her jaws and barking, only to leap away when the crab clapped its claws. Both creatures repeated the process, locked in a dance.

The sun was harsh on his face, the cold he’d experienced out at sea long forgotten. He was in no rush to move, the sand felt great on his back and the pain between his legs deterred him from ever walking again. It was nice to simply lay and relish that after all this time, he’d finally found the island.

Dragged up onto the beach was a boat, large enough for ten and just as white and pristine as its larger sister out at sea. Where were its passengers? Probably up the gorge somewhere, disturbing those birds. He looked along the beach to either side, a thin strip of sand with cliff face on one side, water on the other.

No, not just that. There were two people. Running towards him.

The Mariner hastily struggled to his feet, clutching at his trousers, undone and bunching around his knees. He felt for his semi-automatic. Gone. Lost somewhere in the surf.

“Grace!” he cried, alarmed. She looked up from the crab, who took the opportunity to scuttle away to safety. She saw the targets of his anxiety: two people sprinting as fast as their wasted limbs could carry them.

Mindless.

The Mariner knew he couldn’t outrun them. They weren’t the fastest of creatures, but he certainly wasn’t going far with swollen testicles! His one chance was that the pirates would have left a gun in the small boat. Remote, but possible.

As the Mariner limped towards the vessel, Grace charged, snarling and shrieking her strange battle cry. The two were closer now, a man and a women, both horribly emaciated, faces twisted into dumb hungry grimaces. Mindless had no concern for themselves, their well-being or whereabouts. All they cared for was tearing open the heads of those not like them. They understood nothing but their prey.

This were the reason the male Mindless did not see the Tazzy devil as she streaked towards him, and still did not register her presence nor the pain as she sank her teeth into his leg. He did, however, fall into the sand, clumps kicked up into the air as he continued to drag himself forward whilst Grace leaped onto his back and fastened her teeth into his neck.

The woman, however, was still unhindered, and closed the gap.

With a final burst of agonising speed, the Mariner reached the boat and looked inside.

Empty.

Shit.

He turned to face his attacker, her hands outstretched and gnarled, movements crooked and alien,

Three gunshots rang in quick succession. The second and third hit the woman in the side of her head, caving in one side, and exploding the other. She fell lifeless onto the sand, staining the gold a bright red, pieces of bone scattered around her deformed skull like confetti.

A few twitches and the fading echo of gunfire were all that remained.

“What a coincidence!” A familiar voice drifted through the tinnitus whine. “I was worried you would have gotten here ages ago. Either that or gotten yourself killed.”

The Mariner looked towards the trees, the direction of the voice. Absinth was there, looking pleased with himself, rifle held in his hands. He looked as tough and old as he had before, although now he wore a different tee-shirt, one with a topless girl swearing, gesturing hostility at the world.

He grinned at the stunned Mariner. “We’ve found that Oracle of yours.”

8
THE ORACLE

T
THE ASCENT PROVED STRENUOUS. IF
Absinth had any sympathy for the Mariner, he didn’t show it. He allowed him to stagger, often falling to the ground through fatigue. Not only was he suffering from the wounds he’d received, but he needed a drink.
Bad
. The wine seemed an age ago. An aeon. Couldn’t Absinth see that?

But Absinth walked ahead in silence, leaving the Mariner to be flanked by the remainders of his crew, four in total.

Grace refused to follow and leave her prize only partially eaten, and the sight of her prompted one to ask if she were some kind of dog.

“She’s a devil,” he replied. They scoffed.

“Absinth, who is this bloke?” asked one. He was young chap with a big ball of brown curls for hair and nostrils that flared like the mouths of cannons. “An old friend of yours?”

“He doesn’t have a name.”

“Bullshit,” muttered another. “His name’s just rubbish, that’s all. What do you think it is, Henry?”

The curly haired and big nosed gentleman laughed and thought about it. “Cuntface? I think his name’s Cuntface.”

The other sailor put a hand on the Mariner’s shoulder. “Is that it? That your name?”

The Mariner sighed and kept his bleary eyes on the difficult path ahead. “Sure. Why not?”

“Fuck yeah, why not, ay Dan?” Henry laughed.

The steep climb wound its way through dense trees with steep stone on either side. A small stream ran down it, marking the route they should take. At the top the foliage broke into a clearing dominated by a wide tent. They had climbed a fair height; a dizzy spell congratulated their ascent, and looking back across the tree-tops they could see their two ships, tiny in the great expanse of ocean.

“Feel glad we walked back down for you,” said Dan as he gathered his breath. “We saw your ship arrive and thought we better check you out. Lucky for you we did.”

Finally Absinth turned his attention to the Mariner. “Listen Cuntface,” he sneered. “This place is crawling with Mindless. We’ve had to shoot quite a few so far, you may have noticed their bodies as we climbed.” The Mariner hadn’t, he’d been thinking about wine. “They’ve killed a few of my friends, and we’re not happy about that.”

“It was fucking disgusting,” said Henry. “Smashed Dee’s head open with a rock and then smeared her brains over his face like it was a cream or somethin’.”

Absinth didn’t break his gaze from the Mariner. “Also, we lost quite a few to that coral down there. Nasty stuff. But I see you profited from our sacrifice. We don’t mind that do we lads? What we do mind though, is you keeping any
secrets
. So I’ll ask you, what do you know about this place? What do you know about that tent?”

The Mariner realized why he was alive. They didn’t like him and didn’t need him, but they were afraid.

“This is where the answers are. The truth. The lost pieces of our world.”

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He could reply with complete honesty. “I don’t know. Why did
you
come here?”

Absinth didn’t bother to answer, instead he turned his basset eyes towards the tent, its dark opening alluring and repellent in equal measure. “Get in there Dan, we’ll follow. Cuntface can come in last with me.”

More akin to a Bedouin canopy, the tent straddled the clearing, overlooking the bay. Bright colours and exotic patterns decorated the canopy. Fantastical beasts reared with menace, noble steeds galloped with pride, lands rose and fell across the wide tapestry. Told along its soft canvass was a whole multitude of stories; each creature and scene blended into the other, as if the embroider had no attention span and was constantly changing the subject of her art.

Dan moved the cloth aside, and stepped through. They heard a woman’s voice, full of authority yet smooth and alluring. “Come inside Daniel Hughes, I am pleased you could come.”

The rest of the group followed. Each entered, one after the other, until only Absinth and the Mariner remained.

“After you, Cuntface,” Absinth said, jabbing the Mariner in the back with his rifle. The Mariner stepped inside.

The interior was just as exotically decorated, although now the images were less concerned with mythical beasts, but mythical people, heroes, lords, angels, villains and lovers. Kind brows, heroic jaws, roguish noses, sinister ears, all on a thousand faces. Every story of man was told, swirling about them. On the floor were countless cushions and in the centre sat the Oracle.

Her skin was dark and studded with jewels. Ribbons were entwined about her long black hair that pooled around her waist whilst she sat, cross legged, as if ready for meditation. Dan was already crouching before her, like a pupil ready to receive instruction.

“Welcome Henry Farthing who used to play with his brother by the canal. Welcome Jessica Wilson who studied tourism in Kent. Welcome Ken Wendell who used to steal cars with the Alsop twins.” She spoke to each person as they entered, and in sequence they all opened their eyes in surprise, silently sitting before her in awe. The Oracle spoke to each in a calm eloquent manner, which only changed when she laid eyes on the Mariner.

“Welcome Cun-” she paused, cocked her head to one side, and then quickly looked away. “Welcome Absinth Alcott.” She didn’t bother with an additional description for him, but instead turned her attention back to the Mariner, eyeing him with suspicion.

“Is it true? Are you the Oracle?” Dan asked, staring at her as a child does a clown.

“Yes. I am
The Oracle
.”

“Why should we believe you?” snorted Absinth, his gruff voice hacking apart the silky texture in the air. “We’ll ask questions and let’s see if you can answer ‘em.”

She looked at him patiently and shook her head.

“You may not question me... yet. But I shall prove to you my power.”

She smiled at the group and each stared longingly at her, lost in her charm and strange beauty. Turning to Dan, she held his gaze, their eyes locked and unblinking.

“Hayley, an intimacy of yours?”

“I dated her for a couple of years...” he said, still staring into her eyes.

“She left you for your cousin.”

“Son of a bitch!” he cried out, furious and embarrassed. He looked at the rest of the group, his face flushed red. “I think she’s right. I mean... I don’t know if Hayley did, but it makes sense. Both of them did hang around a lot together, and right after she split with me, he and I stopped talking. I guess that’s the reason he was avoiding me. Fucker!” He whirled back to her. “How did you know?”

“I know everything.”

“How do we know this isn’t some cheap parlour trick?” Absinth was still not convinced. “You could be reading his mind or somethin’.”

“Wouldn’t that still be remarkable?” She flashed him a daring smile. The loaded grin of a croupier.

“It wouldn’t make you an oracle.”

“I told Daniel something he didn’t know. I’ll do it again. Jessica?” She fixed her eyes on the woman amongst them. Once again she looked at her for a few seconds before she spoke. “Your mother crashed her car whilst driving around Big Sur, California.”

At that the Mariner’s stomach took a twist. California. Home of his wine.

Jessica was nodding, urging the Oracle to continue. “You never knew why this happened, but I can tell you now. She had an epileptic fit, lost consciousness and drove off the road.”

Jessica’s eyes filled with tears and her hands shot to her mouth. “My uncle had epilepsy!”

The Oracle nodded solemnly. “Yes, as did she.” She turned her attention to the cynic. “Absinth. Do you still doubt?”

He was less wary now, an eager glint glowing deep in his eyes. “Still not sure, to tell the truth,” he said, though he joined them eagerly enough, leaving only the Mariner to stand by the exit, reluctant to come any further.

Absinth turned back to him. “Come on Cuntface, don’t you want your fucking truth?”

“This is correct, I have truth to share,” she said, her words like old glue. “But perhaps this man is not prepared for it? Perhaps he should leave?”

He didn’t, but the Oracle acted as if he had and she turned to Absinth, looking down at him as a teacher does an infant.

“You were friends with a girl, Isabel. She was murdered.”

Murdered
.

The Mariner tensed, feeling sick with his own guilt. Absinth nodded, gazing back at her.

“You never knew who the murderer was-”

The Mariner’s heart seemed to stop. What was that? Why nod along with the false claim? He
did
know!

“I can tell you who killed her.”

What did she mean she could tell him? He already knew!

“She was killed by a man named Claude, a sailor who you shared a cigarette with, that very night.”

Absinth looked shocked, horrified by the news. He stared at the floor, muttering the name ‘Claude’ to himself over and over. Then he stopped, his head slowly turning towards the Mariner.

“You killed her?”

This seemed to surprise the Oracle as much as he! Her head jolted in his direction, eyes narrowing as if he were a strange illness she couldn’t diagnose. Absurdly she hissed, “Cuntface?” with genuine surprise.

“You fucking murderer! It all makes sense.” Absinth was on his feet and marching towards the Mariner, who backed away, hands held out for defence. “How could I have been so stupid? Who else was on the island at that time, but you? Who else could have killed her? It all makes sense. You evil fuck!”

“But... but.. You knew it was me,” he pleaded, stumbling backwards. “I brought her body down in my arms, it was how we met!”