The Labyrinth – Part 2.1

[[The Labyrinth – Part 2.1]]

You may notice from this post’s title we’re now in section II.

This post will be long because Part 2.1 is in flux, and greatly so. You’ll notice by [[blah blah blah]] throughout the text.

Enjoy.

Brian woke as sharply scented steam reached his nose. He sat up and pulled back from the acrid aromas to see Calum holding a cup out to him. Uilleam stood behind him at the wheel of the Lame Malcolm. It took a moment for Brian to realize he was in the boat’s wheelhouse and that it was far more into night than it had been when he chased Brèa all over the island. The steady throbbing vibration of the boat’s engines rose up through the housing and into him. It was comforting, not jarring, and reminded him of falling asleep in Uncle Tom’s arms when Brian was a kid, about the age he was in the birthday picture. Uncle Tom would be singing some silly song and his voice would rumble through Brian as Tom carried him. Brian remembered drowsing to the rhythm of the song.

Now there was a heavy blanket over him. Mist had settled on the outside of the blanket but he was warm and dry underneath. He wanted to fall asleep again but the smell coming from the cup wouldn’t let him.

“What’s this?” he asked.

Calum spoke with an accent thicker than Uilleam’s. “Cupa dhè tì. Gabh mo leisgeul. Sorry, son. Tea. Stùth. Strong.” Brian wasn’t even sure if he’d ever heard Calum speak English. He didn’t know he could.

Brian took a sip of the clear liquid and grimaced. The blanket fell off his shoulders as he shook off the taste, which was both bitter and quick but forced his eyes open and his heart to pump fast. It even made him breath deep and full after he’d swallowed. The loss of the blanket brought the ocean chill hard onto him and he shivered, looking around the cramped wheelhouse for a place to empty the cup. Out the windows he could see they were some fifty feet off the island, probably on the northern side because the other island wasn’t too distant. The tidal power unit’s multi-faceted eyes glowed as they adjusted for the path of the moon. The Lame Malcolm‘s sealights and floods were directed towards the main island’s shores. They swept back and forth automatically as the boat moved slowly ahead.

Calum guided the cup back to Brian’s lips and placed the blanket back on him. “Drink it, Brian. You’ll feel better.” Ulliam never took his eyes from the island

Brian had never been below decks but he knew there wasn’t much room there, just the engine, transmission, and supplies. The wheelhouse had navigation and engine controls, a small refrigerator and stove, and a formica topped table with red-cushioned benches built into the wheelhouse frame. The table could be lowered to the height of the benches, if necessary, to form a bed. Brian was resting on one of the benches when he woke and could see the foredeck through the windows. It wasn’t really a deck so much as it was the bow work of the boat reinforced to be walked upon. The only stuff there was more neatly coiled ropes and rivened nets and some stowed fishing tackle and lines. “Where’s Uncle Tom and Aunt Leslie?”

“They’re searching the island.”

He downed the tea in one gulp and grimaced as it worked its way down. “For what?”

Calum laughed. “Another cup, son?”

“Please no.”

“We didn’t bring anybody else out to the island, Brian, nor has anyone else, nor can we find any other moorings.”

Moonlight danced on both sides of the Lame Malcolm and illuminated the islands like the heads of submerged giants. Neatly placed nets and ropes, coiled and rivened, were up against the gunwhales leaving the center of the car deck bathed in moonlight but empty, like a sole spotlight on a dancefloor on which nobody danced.

Brian stared onto the moonlit deck, listening to the boat creak and moan as it rolled over the waves. “They told you I saw something?”

Both men nodded and Calum took the wheel. Uilleam sat next to Brian. “We’re circling the island to see if anybody pulled a boat up onto shore. We’ll be back at the dock in another hour or so.”

Brian took another cup of tea from Uilleam. “They believed me?”

“Of course, Brian. They always believed you.”

Getting back to Trinity Cove took more like an hour or two. The moon lit the dock like an ethereal stage with Uncle Tom and Aunt Leslie its sole actors. They grabbed lines thrown by Uilleam and made the boat fast.

Leaving the wheelhouse, Brian saw Uncle Tom look at Uilleam as Uilleam shrugged and shook his head.

“How you doing, Buddy?” Tom placed a protective arm over Brian’s shoulders.

“‘M’okay.” Brian pulled the blanket tighter over himself, moving into Tom’s arm in spite of himself, and Tom pulled him closer. For a moment Brian wanted to break away. Instead he yielded.

“You had me scared there, Buddy. I was worried sick about you.”

“You were?”

“Of course we were, you little nut. What made you think we wouldn’t be?”

Brian didn’t think Tom or Leslie cared because mom told him so. Maybe Aunt Leslie a little because she was dad’s sister. But not Uncle Tom. He was Rasputin. He didn’t care about anything at all. “I don’t know.”

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