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
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
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