needed punishing for trying to blow up the Kirkland , but being
wounded and on land was as certain a death sentence you could give a man.
The issue had been dealt with. Roman had dealt with it. So why
did Samuel give me a tonne of shit for it?
Harry rubbed at his eyes. He was starting to
look very old. His short brown hair was turning greyer by the day.
For some reason, the news that they were going ashore saddened him, which was
the opposite reaction Damien expected. Usually the members of the fleet
were excited at the briefest glimpse of the land they’d long abandoned.
It was like coming home.
“How are the headaches?” Roman asked is friend.
Harry shrugged. “They come and go. At the
moment I am waiting for them to go. But no worries; there’s nothing can
be done. What happened with the cripple? I thought escaping you was
impossible, or so the people around here like to whisper when you’re not
listening. You’re quite the living legend.”
Roman sighed. “I shouldn’t be. I failed my
mission. The dead got in my way. The cripple was wounded well enough,
though. That’s the difference between the living and the dead. The
living run away when you shoot at them.”
Harry seemed to wince for a moment, but then his face
became an expressionless mask. “How did it feel? Trying to kill
another human being?”
Roman looked down at the 9mm tucked into his belt
beside his sword. Samuel had given it to him, but he had taken it only
reluctantly. There was something dishonourable about a gun. It made
killing too easy. He plucked the weapon free and examined its brushed
steel contours and machine-cut grooves. Then he tossed it into the
sea. “It’s not something I wish to do again,” he said earnestly.
Harry nodded knowingly. “Killing a man is
different to slicing up an already-dead man.”
Roman had not enjoyed the feeling of firing at the
cripple. He had done many bad things, but murder was not something he
relished. “The cripple would have killed us all if he’d gotten his
way. He deserved to die.”
“But you don’t want to go searching for him again, do
you?”
“It’s an unnecessary risk and one I don’t
understand. Even if the cripple lives, he can’t hurt us on land.
He’s doomed out there on his own with a gunshot wound. I don’t know
what Samuel is so concerned about.”
“Others call him captain, or sir .”
“The same fools call me Roman.”
“If only they knew your real name, Damien .”
“Damien was the man I used to be. Only you knew that man.”
Harry smiled knowingly. “Only I know the
man you still are. You may have sharpened an antique sword you found in a
museum and attached a rusty spear to your stump, but I still remember the lost
youth you were when I met you. You’ve come a long way. You should
be proud. You gave up drugs and violence for courage and honour, but that
doesn’t mean you have to go running into danger everywhere you find it.
You should take an easier job like mine. We were both tradesman; I could
get you work in the ship’s tool room.”
Damien looked out over the sea, at the two hundred
boats and ships. Soon they would all be sailing north to meet with the
coast, and he would once again be going ashore to contend with the dead. And perhaps the living. They are no better.
What Harry was suggesting was a nice thought, but it was beyond Damien’s
reach. A man with one hand and a hundred battle scars did not simply lay
down his sword and start making replacement engine parts. That was only
the surface of it, though. The deeper truth was that Damien felt more at
ease ashore amongst the dead than on the claustrophobic ship amongst the
living.
Harry placed a hand on his shoulder. “People
aren’t as bad as you think, you know?”
“The people aboard this ship are. They’ve become
like the zombies out there. No one thinks for themselves, they
wounded and on land was as certain a death sentence you could give a man.
The issue had been dealt with. Roman had dealt with it. So why
did Samuel give me a tonne of shit for it?
Harry rubbed at his eyes. He was starting to
look very old. His short brown hair was turning greyer by the day.
For some reason, the news that they were going ashore saddened him, which was
the opposite reaction Damien expected. Usually the members of the fleet
were excited at the briefest glimpse of the land they’d long abandoned.
It was like coming home.
“How are the headaches?” Roman asked is friend.
Harry shrugged. “They come and go. At the
moment I am waiting for them to go. But no worries; there’s nothing can
be done. What happened with the cripple? I thought escaping you was
impossible, or so the people around here like to whisper when you’re not
listening. You’re quite the living legend.”
Roman sighed. “I shouldn’t be. I failed my
mission. The dead got in my way. The cripple was wounded well enough,
though. That’s the difference between the living and the dead. The
living run away when you shoot at them.”
Harry seemed to wince for a moment, but then his face
became an expressionless mask. “How did it feel? Trying to kill
another human being?”
Roman looked down at the 9mm tucked into his belt
beside his sword. Samuel had given it to him, but he had taken it only
reluctantly. There was something dishonourable about a gun. It made
killing too easy. He plucked the weapon free and examined its brushed
steel contours and machine-cut grooves. Then he tossed it into the
sea. “It’s not something I wish to do again,” he said earnestly.
Harry nodded knowingly. “Killing a man is
different to slicing up an already-dead man.”
Roman had not enjoyed the feeling of firing at the
cripple. He had done many bad things, but murder was not something he
relished. “The cripple would have killed us all if he’d gotten his
way. He deserved to die.”
“But you don’t want to go searching for him again, do
you?”
“It’s an unnecessary risk and one I don’t
understand. Even if the cripple lives, he can’t hurt us on land.
He’s doomed out there on his own with a gunshot wound. I don’t know
what Samuel is so concerned about.”
“Others call him captain, or sir .”
“The same fools call me Roman.”
“If only they knew your real name, Damien .”
“Damien was the man I used to be. Only you knew that man.”
Harry smiled knowingly. “Only I know the
man you still are. You may have sharpened an antique sword you found in a
museum and attached a rusty spear to your stump, but I still remember the lost
youth you were when I met you. You’ve come a long way. You should
be proud. You gave up drugs and violence for courage and honour, but that
doesn’t mean you have to go running into danger everywhere you find it.
You should take an easier job like mine. We were both tradesman; I could
get you work in the ship’s tool room.”
Damien looked out over the sea, at the two hundred
boats and ships. Soon they would all be sailing north to meet with the
coast, and he would once again be going ashore to contend with the dead. And perhaps the living. They are no better.
What Harry was suggesting was a nice thought, but it was beyond Damien’s
reach. A man with one hand and a hundred battle scars did not simply lay
down his sword and start making replacement engine parts. That was only
the surface of it, though. The deeper truth was that Damien felt more at
ease ashore amongst the dead than on the claustrophobic ship amongst the
living.
Harry placed a hand on his shoulder. “People
aren’t as bad as you think, you know?”
“The people aboard this ship are. They’ve become
like the zombies out there. No one thinks for themselves, they
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