by Ade Grant
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.”
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 af
ter 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!”
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
ABSINTH 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.”
