The Mariner (31 page)

“How long were you down there?”

“Since yesterday,” he gasped.

“How?” the Mariner demanded.

“My ship, it got taken over. I managed to jump overboard before they could get me. I drifted all night trying to stay afloat. I thought I would drown! Lost at sea all night, total blackness since-”

“Yeah yeah yeah!” the Mariner urgently interrupted. Who remembered the stars and who didn’t? Who would face the same fate as Pryce at their mention? “Who took over your ship? Pirates?”

The man licked his lips and looked between them. “Please, may I have some water? I’m parched.”

McConnell pushed through the others and held out a small plastic bottle. The man drank deep.

“Thank you,” he said, sounding a little stronger. “My name’s Harris, you won’t regret saving me, I promise. You’ll be rewarded.”

“Rewarded?” The Mariner gave an incredulous snort. “You just lost your ship. Your crew are gone, dead most likely. Who’ll reward us?”

“Get me back to the Beagle, and you’ll be paid for your time. Food, water, weapons, whatever you need!”

“The Beagle?”

“A doggy?” Grace’s eyes lit up.

Harris smiled apologetically at the girl. “The Beagle is a ship, named after the HMS Beagle that once carried a great scientist around the world.”

“Not a dog?”

“I’m afraid not, no.”

The Mariner was not impressed. “This ‘Beagle’, it is not your ship?”

“I fear my trusty Kraken is lost to me. No, the Beagle belongs to the head inquisitor, whom I serve.”

“You expect us to believe that?”

“Why would I lie?”

“Perhaps you’re a pirate. You’re going to lure us to some rock you call a ‘hideout’ where you and your bandit friends will kill us and take my ship?”

Harris nodded and grinned. “I suppose that’s a possibility, yeah. But you can be as paranoid as you like. If it looks like a trap, turn the other way. I won’t blame you! Maybe if we’d been a bit more paranoid, my crew wouldn’t have become...” he trailed off, a fearful look in his eyes. “Anomenemies!”

“Ano-whossits?” Cedrick asked with his usual exaggerations.

“Anomenemies! Zombies!”

“Zombies!” Cedrick clasped his wound with one hand and used the other to steady his swaying frame. “I knew it! Flesh Eaters! Cannibals, returned from the dead! There is no more room in hell!”

“Why do you call them ‘Anomenemies’?” the Mariner asked, refusing to be drawn into Cedrick’s display.

“That’s what they’re called, all of them. I didn’t realise men could become Anomenemies so easily. I must get back to the Beagle and make a full report.”

“To this head inquisitor?”

“Yes.”

“And who is that?”

“Mavis.”

The small audience stood in silence, waiting for further explanation.

“Mavis?”

“That’s right.”

“Let me get this straight,” the Mariner spoke slowly, piecing Harris’ story together. “Your ship wasn’t attacked, your crew turned Mindless, or in your terms they became ‘Anomenemies’?”

“Yes, almost the whole crew. Those that didn’t were killed. I threw myself overboard as soon as I saw it was hopeless.”

“And I’m guessing these Anomenemies wouldn’t be able to sail a ship? It would drift until it hit something - like an island?”

“I guess so...” Harris hesitated. “Why do you ask?”

“Your Mindless friends almost got us all killed, that’s why!”

“I.. er..” Harris stammered. “You met them?”

“Yeah, we met them.” The Mariner sighed, holstered the Mauser and rubbed his forehead as if pained. “This Beagle of yours, I suppose it’s widely travelled?”

“Of course.”

The island
, thought the Mariner.
Perhaps they’ll know it?

“Very well,” he said, his mind made up. “We’ll return you to your Beagle, if you can point us in the right direction?”

“It’s tricky. We have to navigate using the sun now instead of the st-”

“Yes, yes!” he shouted, once again silencing Harris before it was too late.
I must put a stop to such talk
, he thought.
No mentioning what’s no longer there. No acknowledgement.
“But can you get us there?”

“Probably.”

“Good, you help me. The rest of you, get below deck and rest. And no chatting! Talk is dangerous, it almost killed me on the zoo. No chit-chat.”

“Loose lips sink ships!” McConnell grinned.

The Mariner gave him a quizzical look, as ever not understanding the joke. “Indeed.”

32
DARWIN’S DISCOVERY

T
HE NAME ‘
B
EAGLE’ CONJURED THE
image of a lean, streamlined vessel. Something plucky and resilient, tough and scrappy. This noble visage could not have been further from the truth.

“That’s her?” the Mariner asked, incredulous at the impractical Goliath before them. Harris failed to sense his disappointment, instead looking at the lumbering sow with something close to wonder.

The size of the Beagle was enormous, able to eat the Neptune whole and with enough space to chase it back with a lake or two. Indeed, the ship appeared hungry in its very construction; a huge mouth was built into its hull, wide-jawed and jowly. Whilst the sight of the Beagle disappointed the Mariner, Megan was positively excited.

“A ferry!” She hopped on her feet like a child. “I haven’t seen one since I was thirteen. My mum took me to the Isle of Wight to see my uncle. Would’ve been one just like this.”

“A ferry?”

“Yeah, cars go in that bit.” She pointed to the Beagle’s mouth. “And then they go out the other side.”

He didn’t quite understand what she meant, was it a mouth or not? “So that’s not a weapon?” With a condescending look she shook her head. No, it was not.

The journey to the Beagle had only taken a few days, and they spotted it on the horizon long before they neared. The ferry straddled the ocean like a beetle on dung, a small island in its own right, but the sheer size of it suggested inherent difficulties.

“How do you dock?”

Harris tilted his head, non-committed. “We’ve never really had to. The scout ships bring back supplies, the Beagle acts as a base of operations, a place to conduct research, tests and trials.”

“Trials?”

“Of the Anomenemies.”

“You put zombies on trial?” Cedrick’s eyes opened in alarm and clutched at his wound, healed despite his certainty that it would infect and prove fatal.

“If we’re lucky, you might get to see one.”

As they neared, two small ships, a more common size (unlike the hefty Neptune and gargantuan Beagle), bounced across the waves. Their motors roared defensively as they put a barrier between the strangers and their mother Beagle. Loud megaphones dictated how the greetings were to play out: the Neptune would await a small collection of scouts who would board and inspect the crew and cargo, before bringing them to the Beagle for interviews.

Harris nodded encouragingly. All standard procedure, though the Mariner was less than impressed, anxious about the incursion.

“Your friends seemed to have brought guns,” he growled at Harris, before turning to the rest of his passengers milling on-deck. “I want you all to hide until this is straightened out. This could get unpleasant.”

“Woah! Woah there!” Harris stepped in front of the Mariner, waving his hands. “It’s how we always treat the unauthorised. As soon as they see me aboard, we’ll be allowed to approach, no problem. Just... chill out!”

Remaining stoic against Harris’ platitudes, he kept a hand on his holstered Mauser.

“And don’t touch that thing, or we might all get killed!”

Five men wearing different attire, though acting as a well-trained unit, climbed up the rope ladder and gathered on deck, each one pointing a handgun at the motley crew.

“Identify yourselves immediately,” said one appearing to be in charge.

“Barnett, it’s me!” Harris nodded enthusiastically. “You can stand down.”

“Captain Harris?” Barnett was shocked, but didn’t lower his weapon, instead he glowered at the Neptune’s crew. “But this isn’t the Kraken. Who are these people? What happened to your command?”

“We were overcome by Anomenemies. I was forced to abandon the Kraken and commandeer this vessel instead. This is Captain Arthur Philip of the Neptune, and these are his people. They seek our protection.”

“What’s that?!” Barnett suddenly swooped his gun low to point at the ground. His lackeys did likewise, some dropping to their knees to facilitate their aim.

“It’s an Anomenemy, sir!”

“Permission to shoot?”

“No it’s not!” Grace yelled. “His name’s Percy!” With a defiance she stepped in front of the tazzy devil, who, like a deer caught in headlights, halted under the glare of attention and nervously farted.

“What manner of creature is it?”

“It’s a Tasmanian Devil you idiot.” McConnell shook his head, irritated.

Barnett swung his attention from beast to reverend, a scowl across his wide thuggish brow. “We have to be careful out here. We are fighting for the very future of the human race. If an Anomenemy made it past our defences, all could be lost. We’re trying to save the fucking world.”

“It’s true, I promise,” said Harris. “Wait until you meet Mavis, then you’ll understand.”

Barnett studied each of the passengers, running every suspect though some internal test, the parameters known only to him.

“How long have you known these people, captain?”

“Just a couple of days, but they’re fine. I can vouch for them.”

“Very well, drop anchor here, you will not be permitted to approach the fleet any further. We shall take you to the Beagle via the speedboat. No weapons. No dogs. Understand?”

All agreed, some more reluctantly than others. McConnell and the Mariner proved the most suspicious, though raging hunger drove them to submission.

“Very well,” the Mariner relented, starving and powerless to refuse.

Their approach to the Beagle was one of shadow and awe. The mighty ship loomed above, blotting out all sunlight, and suddenly the sea spray took a chill quality. There was no direct access to the Beagle from the sea surface, instead the crew of the Neptune were forced to board a satellite ship, a converted fishing trawler, and then cross onto the Beagle via a temporary gangway, watched the whole time by suspicious gun barrels and makeshift pikes.

“Not quite the welcome you lead us to believe,” the Mariner spoke with a tone brimming with threat.

“It’s all just show, don’t worry,” Harris once again tried to placate his guests “It’s all routine. If it makes them feel safer, why not? No-one’s going to get harmed.”

The immediate striking difference between the Neptune and the Beagle, was that the ferry was metal throughout. Every footfall upon her echoed back to their ears and it felt to the Mariner as if he’d been shrunk to the size of a bullet, rattling around in the barrel of a gun. Grimy white walls felt stark and impersonal, further emphasised as they entered her gut, an area behind the mouth he’d been so alarmed by. The cavernous chamber was crammed with goods and supplies, a horde teeming with a crew, each man and woman sorting and cataloguing.

“The rewards of hunting Anomenemies,” Harris said, indicating the plenty. “Sometimes traders give us a cut for the protection we provide, other times they are simply the spoils of war.”

The Mariner was gob-smacked. “Is all this food?”

“No, not all. See those bags over there? Coal. We got some barrels of petrol as well somewhere. Guns are what we’re after most, but there’s never enough of those. Our teams usually have to share, think World-War-Russia and you got the right idea.”

Despite the activity, the cargo room was dimly lit, lights some thirty feet in the air emitting a low orange glow, bestowing little but shadows on the workers below. The crew had supplemented the luminosity with their own oil lamps and battery powered torches that created little pools of light amongst the crates.

“Whilst some supplies are plentiful, fuel for the Beagle is low,” Harris explained. “In fact the ship hasn’t moved for some months now, engine on emergency power only.”

“You didn’t mention anything about this before,” the Mariner said. “I thought she was well travelled?”

“We are!” Harris’ defences shot up, a brief flash of anger at being doubted crossing his features. “Just because the Beagle doesn’t sail any-more doesn’t mean that her eyes don’t roam. My Kraken has seen many sights, I can assure you.” He strode ahead, pulling open a heavyset door that led into a tight corridor. “Follow.”

As they were marched ever more centrally, they passed further members of the Beagle’s crew, and unlike when they’d arrived at the zoo, these were uninterested in visitors, concerned only with their own tasks. Countless blank faces bathed in a dim light.

“It’s like being back in a city,” McConnell said, his voice carefully quiet yet still echoing. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt a part of a multitude. Strangely comforting in its way.”

The Mariner received no similar comfort. He couldn’t help but feel that they were once more captives; Harris another Pryce leading him to Mavis. most likely a tin-pot dictator like Diane, another fraud and monster.