The Mariner

He neared the rock, and leapt onto its surface, glad to be free from the sand, yet frustrated by the darkness that surrounded him. Hands splayed wide, he found himself once again clawing about the same stretch of stone, searching for his missing Mauser. A finger brushed against something, but it turned out to be the cold leg of Pryce, initially ignored in favour of a lynching, and now to be ignored forever.

Behind him, he heard Grace and the old lady start to scream.

Never enough time!

Cold metal filled his hand. He was up, throwing himself back towards the beach, not caring if he injured himself in the process, just desperate to put this island behind him.

Ahead he could see the row-boat; it was in the surf, taking in water, whilst the others frantically tried to pull a Mindless woman off the portly monk. Megan still held her torch, a beam which wove frantically back and forth, trying to take in as much as possible from the gloom. Instead of bringing her flaming stick, Grace had left it, speared in the sand at the head of the beach. Now it illuminated the ten, maybe more, Mindless, who’d caught up and broke cover, streaking towards their hated enemy.

Muttering a prayer to whatever force might look out for him, the Mariner began to fire.

31. ANOMENEMIES

DESPITE THE CONTINUOUS ROCKING, THE Neptune felt more like firm ground than land ever did, and despite the circumstances, the pain, and the additional intruders, the Mariner was glad to be once more upon her ample frame.

Initial joy had been tempered somewhere however, as crew of one had been transformed to six.

Six.

Six mouths to feed, not to mention the devils.

But at least they were pleased with the turn of events. As the refugees, soaking wet, wounded and bedraggled, climbed aboard, the beasts had hissed and growled. Their fearsome display had only lasted until they saw Grace, upon which they reverted to excited yapping, making them about as fearsome as a kitten in a bib. This was the final straw for the Mariner, who made a mental note of their uselessness.

And what a grim journey it had been. How many Mindless had he shot? The gun had been emptied and yet still they came, wading and swimming once the refugees had gotten beyond the surf. Hopefully they drowned, or were too stupid to turn back and were now paddling around the ocean, lost and growing tired.

Traumatised and exhausted, all he wanted, all any of them wanted, was to collapse, sleep, and allow the wind to carry them away. But sleep was beyond them, because the portly monk was wounded.

“Dead! I’m dead!” he screamed from below deck. McConnell and Megan were doing their best to address the wounds upon his neck and shoulder, amateurish though their administrations were.

“You’re not dead,” she scolded. “These will heal, you’ll see. You’re going to be right as rain!”

“But they were zombies!” he insisted. “The undead! Flesh-Eaters! I’ll become one for sure! You should throw me overboard now, lest I start feasting upon your brrrains!” He rolled the ‘r’ on his tongue theatrically, simultaneously emphasising the word and discrediting himself as an authority.

“Yeah do it.” Mariner held his head, desperate for a drink and frustrated by the turn of events. “Before he, you know, feasts or whatever…”

“You would be wise to, sir! Heed my words!”

“We’re not throwing you overboard, just sit tight.” McConnell removed a deeply soiled cloth from the wound, threw it to the ground and began to apply another. “Zombies don’t exist.”

“What would you call those creatures that attacked us then?”

“Agents of the Demon, Cedrick,” Megan said. “They were sent to stop us achieving Diane’s goal.” At mentioning Diane’s name, the young woman bowed her head to stifle a sob.

“Nooo!” Cedrick muttered, shaking his head. “Zombies I tell you! Zombies!”

“I’ve heard enough,” said the Mariner, heading above deck. “If he starts biting people, throw him over the side.”

Annoyingly. the sound of Cedrick’s protests still intruded into the world above, but at least they were dimmed, and the Mariner savoured his moments peace, turning his face towards the breeze and closing his eyes.

Where now? The only clue he’d felt they’d had was the zoo, and that had turned out to be a trap, just as the Oracle and Tetrazzini’s rehab clinic had. So where next?

“We should head back to Sighisoara,” McConnell said as if reading his mind. “Cedrick could do with getting that wound looked at, we’re all exhausted, there’s no food, and Mary and Megan are completely traumatised.”

“Mary?”

“Yeah, the old lady. She’s a lot calmer than the other two, but still, those monks were her family, and she’s lost them all in a matter of minutes. At the moment she’s concerned with caring for Megan and Grace, but once that distraction fades…” At a loss, McConnell shrugged.

“We can’t go back to Sighisoara.”

“Because you killed Tetrazzini?”