“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
THE NAME ‘BEAGLE’ 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?”