The Mariner

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

TTHE 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.”