The Hand and the Hatchet

Chapter 27

Bell's boots crunched in the dry sand, every step squeaking. The sky looked incredible, an explosion of colour, so bright it was almost blinding. A deep golden yellow illuminated the horizon.

Jamie's blood dripped from the blade of the hatchet in his hand. He felt this without looking down. The sound of the ocean was intoxicating. He stopped, and looked down at the axe in his hand. He inspected it right there, with the fantastical light making it gleam. It was encrusted with blood, and the bottom point, the lowest past of the blade, had somehow been chipped off. A streak of fresh crimson dripped as he watched. The handle was no longer fresh and clean. The blade didn't shine as it had the day he'd found it. He walked on, the hatchet slipping from his unfeeling fingers, and landed in the sand, with the handle pointing towards the spectacular sky.

The flotilla was beached, small gangplanks running between every boat. A woman stood on the edge of the boat with a clipboard, waiting for them. Ant was in front of him, having overtaken him when he'd dropped the hatchet. He had his hands up, and Bell picked out a man with a rifle in the cab of the boat, trained on Ant. He exchanged a few words with the woman, and then Ant jumped into the boat, crossing a plank to get to Adam, who was waving to them both, with a grin so wide he looked as if he were about to swallow his own head.

Bell approached the woman.

"Where did you come from?"

"I'm with them" he said, pointing at Adam and Ant.

"What can you do for us?"

"Anything you need, I can fight, or fish, or cook. Anything"

"What's your name?"

He considered. Maybe it was for the best to leave his old life behind, only pain awaited him there. But perhaps the time for pretence was over.

"Ashley"

The woman smiled, noting in her clipboard. She pointed to the boat.

"Welcome aboard, Ashley"