Lifeboat

5. A New World

It took me another ten minutes to get my act together and face this problem head on. The man at the edge of the pine trees still hadn't budged. It was time to get a grip and get on with it. Whatever the outcome may be.

I pushed myself up, using the sides of the boat for balance and hoisted my right leg over the side. My foot sank down in the soft sand, the toes disappearing from view.

Nodding my head in a kind of agreement with this natural occurrence, I clambered out fully from my vessel and stood upright in the sunshine.

The man hadn't moved.

I slowly inched my way up the beach, reluctant to give up the safety of my boat, yet anxious to get back to reality. The gulls continued calling.

The sand became firmer and more solid the farther I stumbled from the shore.

The man still didn't move.

I was now close enough to get a better look at this person. Yes, he was actually male. Squashed down in a crossed legged position. He wore a red and brown woollen bobble hat, the kind a grandmother would knit as a present. His matching red, woollen jumper, stretched to it's limits around his generous belly. He faced down into the sand, seemingly entranced with whatever he saw there, his head cocked to the left. Light brown trousers of well-used cotton ended with a patch of dark brown skin. No socks. However, the footwear astounded me.

As I got closer I could sense that nothing would disturb this man. Not now, not ever. He'd been dead for a long time.

Empty, dark hollows filled his eye sockets. A bank of sand had been repositioned by the wind from the shore and held him steady in the sea breeze. His afore-mentioned footwear struck me as so out of place that a snort of laughter escaped me. Brazen, fluorescent pink 'Hello Kitty' basketball boots! The laces meticulously wrapped around the man's thick ankles, ending with a flourish of double bows.

I quickly got a hold of myself and began stripping the body of its clothing. Waste not want not.

It proved hard to pull the trousers off. Mainly as I had to fight the urge to throw up with every waft of stench that assaulted my nostrils. The jumper didn't give me many problems, the neckline was well-stretched. It kind of felt like undressing a doll, the lack of flexibility in the corpse reminded me of the familiar experience.

Adjusting the knot in the loose material of the trousers around my waist, I scanned the treeline for movement.

I lurched my way through the sand and up onto the easier surface of the pine wood. My stomach rumbled almost constantly now.

The wool of the jumper scratched, way too hot for the increasing heat of the day. The laces of the pretty pink boots dragged behind me through the pine needles, catching on protruding roots and the odd rock.

My hair, gratefully bundled up under the bobble hat began to make the sweat run down my face. I had no idea how I would wash away the reek of rotten flesh and that fishy odour after all this.

The sun reached its highest point in the clear sky by the time I got through the trees and out onto a narrow road.

Tarmac that had been there without repair for a lifetime, full of potholes and crumbling edges. It stretched out to the left and right of me, as straight as a ruler.

Across the road were more pine trees. Seemingly never ending. On the sides of the road to my left I couldn't decipher anything more than yet more trees. However, to the right, a steady incline upwards led to a glimpse of a building above the trees, on a hill. It looked old, maybe the ruins of an ancient castle or something.

I decided that this had to be the better option. At least the old road was in the shade. So I set off on my way towards the castle.

Stopping to tighten up the baggy trouser knot, I spotted a blue, plastic bottle by the side of the road. I picked it up, unscrewed the top and sniffed doubtfully at it's contents. It didn't smell like urine or alcohol, or anything at all for that matter. I stuck my finger in it and tipped it up enough to get it wet. Then, after tasting the liquid on my finger, I came to the conclusion that it must be water.

Once I started drinking, I realised how thirsty I'd become. The half litre of water evaporated down my dry throat in seconds. Casting the empty bottle back onto the pine needles with a heavy sigh, I continued my walk.

The racket of seagulls was far behind me now and I began to appreciate the calm rustle of the tree tops in the breeze. I yanked up the sleeves of the jumper, scratching the skin underneath.

The road began to slope upwards. I found myself short of breath and struggling to keep up my rapid pace.

Cursing and sweating, my legs became heavier with every step, I inched my way closer to my goal.

I could see it better now. The tower was indeed a part of an old castle. Walls of light, grey stone rose out of the pine wood ahead.

The last part of the tough incline actually became the easiest. Once I got a look at the size of the castle, I knew I'd find something or someone to help me - or at least a cool place to rest.

My pink boots were now scuffed with dust and had tortured my feet into bleeding, blistered victims. I tore them off as soon as I left the tarmac and stepped onto the cool, long grass driveway leading up to the castle gateway. I threw them as hard as I could. They bounced away from me and into the thick bushes and shrubs that surrounded the castle on all sides of the hill.

Barefoot, exhausted and ravenous, I willed my body up the rest of the hill and through the open metal gate, under an archway of stone within the castle's outer wall.

Passing through, squeaking the ironwork, my nostrils and the void in my stomach, caught the tantalising aroma of meat, roasting on a barbecue.