The Book of Josiah - Chapter 17

    Darkness dissolved into light.
    From nothingness all he could see was fire, fire burning hot and bright. And yet he was cold. And could not move.
    The light was fleeting, the warmth fading - the darkness more than real.
    Steel chains bound his arms and legs, rusted links wore at his wrists and ankles. The constant sound of dripping water played out a never-ending riff. Water swirled and danced around the stone cobbles and pooled around his feet, covered with the filth of eternity. And yet his mouth was dry beyond enduring. And the water was out of reach.
    If he felt anything, it was abject terror.
    He knew he was alone despite the darkness. No, it wasn’t dark. Fire burned in braziers, fixed at equal intervals along the wall, flickering like ghosts, more dead than alive. And the walls stretched beyond the end of the world, beyond the brink of forever.
    And then he was in the jungle, running, running. The unbearable green burnt his eyes, the cascading water plunged his hair to rivers, the undergrowth tore at his tattered clothes. But he was running, and nothing else mattered.
    He was a jaguar, fleet of foot, king of the jungle, deadly hunter. His claws were like steel vices, his teeth like industrial diamonds. And his prey was close. The infuriating stench of its sweat filled his mind with visions of death and blood, of red and green.
    The water did not matter, the thickness of the air he fought was irrelevant - the only thing in the world was his prey. He had to run.
    And then he was the prey and was still running, running, fighting the pain of a broken arm - he knew that a piece of metal was stuck in his flesh. Cold sweat mingled with the gushing water but there was no oblivion.
    His antlers caught a branch and he was slowed for an instant - the pause was deadly - the hunter was upon him.
    This is a dream, he thought, and smiled to himself. There is no pain and no water. With a leap he sailed high into the air and left the hunter far behind. This is a dream, and here I can fly.
    But he could not fly, and so he fell down with the rain, faster than teardrops, plummeting to the green earth and the dark ribbon of silver. The ribbon rushed to meet him, its waters closed over his head.
    This is a dream, he thought, and I can swim. And so he did. But he saw that fish too can swim, and they gathered around him, sunlight flashed off bared fangs. Then all around him, the water turned from green to red.
    He was the hunter, laughing at his folly.
    He was the hunted, crying into blood.
    He was the fish, extracting his pound of flesh.
    He is you, and you are me, and I am everyone.
    “You are not My people. And you are not forgiven.”

*  *  *

    “Well Mr Smith, this is a pleasant surprise.”

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 15

    “Are you afraid?”
    “Yes, a little. Why do you ask?”
    “You’re shivering.”
    Pausing for a moment to consider this, Jos found it was true and wondered why - this place was probably the warmest on the ship. Still, he pulled his cloak tighter and gritted his teeth.
    They walked on long-bladed grass that crunched delightfully at every step. Jos could barely remember the last time he had walked on grass - the smell was magical.
    A sudden stampede of memory threatened to overwhelm him - everything came back so clearly. He could see the swings he had played on as a child - they were red, with black seats, high enough off the ground that he had felt really grown-up to sit on them and swing into the air. He had swung and dreamt of flying, of reaching to the heavens, of becoming a pilot of a ship to the stars. He played on the slide and the roundabout, on the see-saw and the climbing frame that was shaped like an elephant’s head. He played and he smelled the grass beneath his feet, fresh with frost or dew. Ghosts of children played across his eyes, walking the paths beside him, laughing and shrieking with equal glee, climbing the tall oak trees to his left, the beech trees to the right, sitting beneath a gnarled, old willow. For a moment he could see everything. Then he was back.
    “It’s okay to be frightened,” Jonah said, in what Jos could only assume was supposed to be a comforting tone of voice - Jonah did not comfort well.
    “Thank you but I don’t really need your permission. Some deranged terrorists are trying to destroy the ship and I’m trying to stop them. Every security guard on the ship is looking for us - and will probably shoot us on sight given that their boss seems to be behind it all. And here we are, strolling through a park…”
    “An arboretum,” Jonah corrected him, almost sheepishly, “it’s an arboretum.”
    “… strolling through an arboretum as if it were a Sunday afternoon and we hadn’t a care in the world. I think I have earned the right to be a little scared.”